I'm home now. The kids have had a "lunch" of sorts--at 4:00 p.m. Time for me to unload.
It snowed all afternoon and evening and into the morning. It's truly beautiful, except that three little boys and I needed to be dressed, fed and out of the house at 8:30 this morning to make it to a doctor appointment by 9:15. I still have not gotten my studded tires on.
My 3-year-old morning person made his way up the stairs much too early. I knew he was coming by the perpetual, "I'm way too tired because sleep is for the birds" whine which slowly increased in volume. It was soon apparent that he was not the only one who got up on the wrong side of the bed. Our morning routine consisted of much pestering, bickering, moaning, groaning, and in-general--gnashing of teeth. Three little boys finally got out the door (on-time--whew!) and made their way out to the studless family van. We made our way through the slip-sliding morning traffic and arrived at the medical plaza at 9:15. I naively thought, "We did it! All downhill from here!" Three little boys unloaded and we made our way across the parking lot and into the building and down the hall. We were greeted by a dark, shade-drawn office with a note on the door proclaiming, "We moved in October! We finally have a building of our own!" Good for you, and congratulations. WISH YOU'D HAVE BOTHERED TO MENTION THIS LITTLE FACT WHEN I MADE THE APPOINTMENT...OR YESTERDAY WHEN YOU CALLED TO CONFIRM! There was an address on the door, which was totally unfamiliar to me. Upon investigation, I found another little note in another window with a very obscure map on it. Three little boys and their mother (mind you with 4th little boy inside) headed back up the hall, back across the parking lot, and through the ritual of buckling into three little car seats. This sounds innocent enough, but any of you readers with three boys know the facts--it is somewhat similar to herding cats, only much louder. Back out into slip-sliding traffic we trudged. I headed in the general direction of where I thought the new office was located. Taking the back roads, I over-shot where I wanted to be and needed to take a left out onto Parks Highway. Done it many times. It's no big deal if you are patient enough to wait for a reasonable opening. I pulled up to the "stop sign" (more on this later) and waited. Finally it was my time. I safely pulled out, and for some reason, the notion popped into my mind that I was going to get in a car accident on my way and it would be all because the doctor office didn't bother to mention they moved. I had to hang in the middle "suicide lane" momentarily while I waited for the other flow of traffic to open up...and it was there I saw a trooper's lights go on. Crap. Is it illegal to hang momentarily in the middle lane if necessary on a snowy day to avoid a collision? Guess so, or so I thought. This was my last straw. I pulled over and burst into tears; I had absorbed my limit of stress on this morning. I'm talking tears as in, the blubbering, gasping type that do not and will not shut off under any amount of will power. I rolled down my window and apologized to the trooper, asking him to please wait a moment. He had that slightly nervous, large-eyed look that most men get to some degree when faced with a pregnant woman in tears. I finally collected myself enough to answer his question, "So you must know why I pulled you over?" I blubbered out why I had to hang momentarily in the middle lane while the other side of traffic cleared more because of the slippery roads...blah, blah, blah." He replied, "There's a traffic light there now; you ran a red light." (Insert loud gong-type noise that at this point went off in my frazzled little head.) A traffic light. Of course. They put them in last September, or August, or...whatever. At this point, I struggled to come up with all the documents the trooper needed--licence, registration, insurance. Most things were in the glove compartment, and proved a bit difficult to retrieve...as are most things these days which require stooping or bending of any sort. I did not have our most recent insurance card in the van. I apologized through my stream of tears which would not end, and waited for him to do his thing back in the patrol car. At this point I thought I'd try and call the doctor's office. Too bad they were not listed in the phone book. Trooper returns, all apologetic-like, and explains he's giving me a ticket for no insurance and if I just produce that within ten days the ticket is void. For the red light, he explained, "I am just giving you a warning...I can see you're having a REALLY BAD DAY." I blubbered out a barely-audible "thank you do you know where Willow street is?" The slightly-nervous-man-look returned and he began to walk backward in an effort to relieve himself from this pitiful, teary-eyed, desperate, pregnant woman whom he REALLY was wishing he had not bothered to pull over. He apologized that he does not normally patrol Wasilla. Off we went.
By God's grace we found the new office; it was 10:50. We headed in, me still not able to stop crying. What a nuisance tears and emotions can be; I desperately wanted those tears to stop, but they would not concede. The receptionist had no pity that I didn't know the office had moved, but we were still able to see the doctor after every other person who had gotten there on time. The doctor visit went as expected. This was an appointment I had not been looking forward to, and had been putting off for many months. Bobcat gets migraines. Freaky, knock-him-out-with-no-notice, makes-him-puke migraines. I've been hoping and praying for months they would just go away. Finally after another episode this past weekend, I made the appointment. Here's a little fun-fact about myself--I hate radiation. I chalk this up to having gone through radiology courses and training and taking x-rays in my previous life, uh...job. I know too well the dangers and risks associated; I also know it can be necessary and helpful. I just do not like the thought of my babies taking any of it on. I have put off this doctor visit because I knew the doctor would request an MRI. Sure enough, we are going to be heading for an MRI. News I expected, but didn't like. The other thing we needed to do was blood work. No biggie, for most people...including myself, and our 6-year-old and 3-year-old. BIG DEAL for our 8-year-old. Mercy. We spent a long time (3 of us) holding him down while he struggled and plead and cried. It added to the wonderful day we were having.
At this point, we were supposed to be headed to a long-awaited field trip to Matanuska Creamery which began at 11:00. It was now 11:06. Three very bummed-out little boys head to the van, and I tell them we can just head over and maybe they'll let us go on the 2nd tour at 12:00. They did. Ice cream brightened my little crew's day momentarily. We had a couple errands before we could go home. The highlight, which was tucked in between a whole lot of whining and pestering, was knock-down, drag-out hysteria in the Fred Meyer restroom...because my 6-year-old is positively panicked over automatic-flushing toilets. If you heard a blood-curdling, frantic screaming sometime this afternoon...it was us. At this point, I made my summation proclamation, "Well this has been a banner-day for the (insert our last name.) That's all. May you all have a much better day than the one described!
Side note--We choose to give thanks for our days--whether they are good days, or bad days. What a cool thing that after the trooper incident, I could remind the boys of the song we hear regularly on KLOVE, "Praise You in This Storm". They have asked before, "What is this song talking about, Mommy?" I told them today, that days like today are what the song is talking about. We choose to praise Jesus for all our days--because each and every one (YES, including today!) are a gift from Him. We are healthy, together, and have a job that provides a warm home and good food. Jesus is the giver of everything good, and we will praise Him in every storm.