M2 is sitting next to me right now, rhyming her little heart out and writing the words on her Doodle Board. She comes home with a "reading assignment" each week, and there are activities to do with it. She generally fights me about doing it (and yes, it can get ugly... VERY ugly), but even if she fights the reading part, she loves to rhyme. I should say that she doesn't have to do much reading; I do most of it. And they're nursery rhymes, not random passages or silly made-up stories, so for most kids, they'd be a lot of fun.
Anyway... she loves to rhyme, and when she's in the mood, I encourage it and invent extra activities just for her. I just got asked to read 'dog' and 'hog,' and now she's telling me she intends to write some "tricky" rhymes. Please pray that I can interpret the spelling, because if I can't, Santa Claus is in trouble.
You'd think that those would be unrelated subjects, spelling and handwriting and Santa Claus, but they're not. There's a very relevant correlation, I promise. M2 wrote her Christmas list to Santa already two weeks ago, and I'll be darned if it didn't come up in conversation on the way home from picking her up today. It started with the Tooth Fairy because M1 stated blandly, "I've seen the Tooth Fairy."
I don't mind telling you I had a small heart attack in the driver's seat because he wouldn't hesitate one nanosecond to blurt out, "It's Mom," and not think a thing of it even though M2 has yet to lose a single tooth and I don't want the fun to be ruined for her because she very much admires the letters that the Tooth Fairy sends to M1. So when M2 asked, "What does she look like?" I seriously held my breath.
Luckily, he was just trying to lord his own imagination over his sister, so the description that followed involved copious quantities of pink and glitter. M2's response was, "So next time you lose a tooth, can you catch her and keep her and I can see her?"
"No, you can't catch her. She has a pink magic wand with glitter on the end and can escape."
"Well, I'm sure we could trap her with food. What does she eat?"
"Nobody knows because nobody's ever seen her eat."
"But then how does she stay alive? I bet she eats crackers. Maybe if we crumbled one up really tiny, she'd eat it and you could trap her for me."
Authority Boy was having his font of knowledge questioned, and that disturbed him.
"NO, M2. She'd just magic away with her wand, remember?!?"
"Well, I'll write her a letter and she'll just read it and come live with me. She can read my writing just like Santa Claus can. 'Cause Santa Claus CAN read my writing on my Christmas list, right, Mom?"
"Of course, dear... he uses the same magic for reading letters that he does for getting into the house without breaking things."
"SEE, M1?? The Tooth Fairy WILL live with me. So there."
Grunt. Arms cross. Indignant seat flop.
Thank heavens M1 let it drop at that point because I was on the verge of having an audible giggle meltdown. Both of them were so full of righteous indignity it was quite amusing. I love this innocence. Makes me wish I could just go back and be little with them again.
Unfortunately, I can't. I have to do things like deal with doctors and people in scheduling departments who are totally out to ruin my day.
We were supposed to go to the psychiatrist for M2 on Monday. This past Monday, the 23rd. But a couple weeks ago I got a phone call from The Scheduling Queen who is either permanently disgruntled or chronically unhappy, and we rescheduled for the 30th. Next Monday. I can deal with that. I understand things come up, and really, an extra week doesn't make all that much difference in the grand scheme of things.
However, today while M1 and I were browsing through Hobby Lobby, my cell phone buzzed in my purse. I answered.
It was The Scheduling Queen, and she wasn't making a reminder courtesy call. The doctor had taken on a new position at another clinic and would only be in their clinic two days a week starting 'soon,' and could we reschedule?
I politely reminded her that we'd already been rescheduled once, but she's not The Scheduling Queen for nothing. "Oh, I know, and I'm sorry, but his schedule's just been so up in the air lately that we're having to move a lot of people. It looks like the next appointment we have is on a Tuuuesssdaayyyy..."
There was a pause as she looked up the specific date and time.
MY turn to pause. SEPTEMBER 21?!?!?!?!? I finally realized I'd been quiet for quite a while and was supposed to say something. That is how conversations typically work, after all, but holy cow. Holy. Freaking. Cow. I was nearly in tears standing in the clearance aisle of Hobby Lobby, and M1 was giving me a very odd look. I accepted the appointment with less than my usual grace, The Scheduling Queen promised to call me if anything opened up earlier, and I hung up. Then I started shaking, and while that may have had something to do with the two cups of caramel macchiato-laced coffee I'd consumed that morning, I suspect it had a lot more to do with the fact that I was MAD. Angry. Seriously peeved. I do not like being yanked around, and that is precisely how I was feeling. I also knew darn good and well that M2 and I are going to have lots... and lots... of fights between now and then, and the current medication isn't doing much to curb those and I needed that to change and... deeeeeep breath.
Hug the boy. Smile. Feel better.
Of course, now the boy's really curious.
"Mom, why did you just hug me?"
"Because you make me happy, and I love you, and you're special."
He really does, and I do, and he is, and he'll never know how therapeutic that hug was. Off we went, finishing up shopping and going to his swimming lesson, hitting up Sam's for cat litter and pork chops, and finally heading home.
Then I e-mailed the doctor. I was polite and courteous and simply stated the facts of the situation and asked if he had medication recommendations for me to share with our pediatrician or whether he could get us in before the September 21st time slot. I expected it would be tomorrow before I heard anything, but I had a reply within five minutes! In our short back-and-forth correspondence over the next 15 minutes, he explained the situation, told me I wasn't an inconvenience (because even though I was angry and probably justified, I still hate any sort of confrontation, and yes, this counted), and told me he'd have someone call me.
The Scheduling Queen called less than 20 minutes later. An appointment magically opened up next Tuesday, August 31.
Whether it was the Tooth Fairy's wand that made the appointment appear or my own powers of persuasion or simply good luck, I'll never know. I don't think I care, either. I'm just glad we're getting in.
Back to rhyming. Rhyme/time/crime/slime. There. I feel better. :)