My toddler’s full of sh*t

Literally.

We had our yearly wellness check for Coraline this morning. I like her doctor, as much as I can like doctors. I think once anyone has had a fairly major illness the negative feeling kinda linger. But I told my anxiety and hostility to suck it. After all, it’s a wellness check: boring but with a little luck, you aren’t stuck in the waiting room for more than 20 minutes and don’t have to see them for another year.

We struck gold in the waiting room. Call into the  patient’s roomo within five minutes! Then it was height/weight check: good, the is your child functioning normally questions: goodl  Does she watch too much tv/ipad: probably but hey we will fudge the numbers a bit to get by.

15 minutes later, the doctors telling up how good her heart and lungs are and I’m thanking my lucky stars until he checks her stomach.

There’s a lump, and after a quick well this could be nothing (constipation) , he immediately sends us to xrays.

Immediately.

I over course am having a mini panic attack. I’ve been around enough doctors offices to know its never a good sign when the immediately send you for anything. .  But as a parent you can’t just explode all over the floor so I bit my lip while…..

my Doctor Google brain goes to the worst case scenerio (Everything is cancer! Everything is cancer when you google it!…..)

Luckily, our complex has outpatient xrays so they were able to get us in pretty quickly.

However, an hour later we are back in her pediatrian’s waiting room.

At this point, Coraline, is hungry and tired of sitting.

I have, after an extensive google search, found every horrible possibility it could be and am silently cursing everyone who is called from the waiting room before us.

Kyle is shooting me dirty looks and telling me to stop worrying.

Minnie Mouse blares on the tv.

Another fifteen minutes  and we are back in the  patient’s room. Coraline’s running around as she always does, and me, well I’m making a mental check list of the worst case of scenerios and wondering how a kid who is never sick and full of energy could be really really sick…..

The wait seems like a forever, it’s probably three minutes.

“Let’s look at your xray, I’ll admit I was worried by the feel but this xray is reassuring.”

Do I have to I think to myself, but am releaved that he seems to think it’s nothing.

Well not exactly nothing…..

She was full of poop. Like a lot of poop.

So we all get a weekend of Myralax and suppositories. Well I mean I guess I don’t get that, but I do get a weekend of giving a crabby toddler this..

But considering the alternatives, I’ll take it.

Plus when she’s older and ready for her first date, this will be a great story to share.

 

 

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Parenting is hard

I’ve been debating how I should start this blog post (my first in what almost a year). I’m torn between two cliches:

“Parenting is hard”

or

“I love my kid but….”

It’s odd to feel the need to soften the difficulty of parenting. That somehow admitting it’s difficult is equated to not loving your child.

*My wonderful loving child who is currently pretending to be a tornado on the bedroom floor because she has a sick sense of when mom hides away for some free time*

Of course the difficulty is not equated to loving your child.  I’d take a bullet for my child ( I know another cliche right) but let’s face it, when your lovely daughter or son is channeling their inner demon, at of course the most inappropriate time, pretending childrearing is some instagram dream is just foolish.

Or when you throw a birthday party. Remember back to the magic of your birthday. You’d get hopped up on all kids of sweets, run around crazy with your friends and open presents.

Remember that precious childhood memory.

It was probably horrible for you parents.

Coraline’s fourth birthday party was yesterday.  After spending a good three months lying to myself that I was gonna channel Martha Stewart and countless hours wasted Pinning birthday party ideas from parents that are frankly MUCh more talented than I am, about three weeks ago, I realized that “hey you have a birthday party date announcced on facebook” with nothing prepared for it including a venue.

But since I’m trying to be Zen (I mean I meditated….sometimes…occassionally and it’s not court ordered), I decide to just brand it as “simplistic” and lie to myself that it’ll be a relax ing time.

Who needs Facebook memories? We will just invited family and friends and hold it somewhere local.

Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy.

That is until it’s 15 minutes befor the party starts and I’m trying to pack everything into my Subaru and hope that I can beat that one annoying party guest who has to show up early.

I’ve spent the night before cooking 4 batches of spaghetti sauce(which frankly I suck at), sent Kyle to decorate becuase frankly I suck at that to. Suprise we find out the kitchen is locked and they forgot to give of the key!

Coraline, who is NEVER sick, somehow magically had a cold and was a crab pants. And I have about twenty guest coming, ten or so of which are children most under the age of 6. And for some reason I planned the party during my child’s nap time (because that was the logical thing to do).

Fast forward an hour, Coraline’s grandfather is telling a lovely famliy story about how his grandfather MURDERED his son. (Which suprise was the first I’ve heard about it).

Coraline and her gaggle of tiny toddler friends have decided to plan dino balloon war which is about as loud as I imagine an actual war to be.  At least I think they were playing, it’s hard to tell if toddlersaurs are actually getting along sometimes.

And this goes on for about five hours.

Yeah parenting is hard. I think I’ll go with that.