Your basic trip to the ob/gyn

So school starts in exactly 10 days.  Do you think I am counting?  Yes, I’m practically counting the minutes.  Look, I adore my children, but I am with them roughly 13 hours a day–anytime they aren’t sleeping–and I’m mostly with them alone.  They spend the majority of that time fighting over the iPad (even when it’s in “iPad jail” on top of the mantle, which it is, A LOT), yelling, doing the opposite of what I ask, complaining about food in front of them, begging for everything and anything (yesterday Max wanted me to buy him some sort of Ninja weapon called a shurikan and seriously wouldn’t let it go for an hour), sitting on me, holding on to my leg and continuously asking me for water, milk, an apple, a cracker, a wipe of a butt, a pen, some paper, chapstick, candy, a piece of bread, etc etc.  By then end of the day, they could probably be on the front lawn, nude and hitting each other with loaves of French bread in front of 20 neighbors and I’d be all, “eh, that’s okay….no discipline is needed here.”

So since said children are with me 13 hours per day, it stands to reason that they go with me everywhere.  Where to yesterday, you ask?  The friggin gynecologist.   Like I didn’t humiliate myself enough to give birth to these little people?

What was supposed to be a consultation on an IUD, turned out to be a full on insertion of the IUD.  Remember the whole vasectomy debacle from this post?  Yeah, so this is where we ended up on that front.  Because it’s not enough that I spent 9 months baking each child and pushing them out of my vagina–almost dying with one, but okay–apparently now I have to have a foreign object inserted into my uterus for 5 years.

So anyhoo, we arrive and they announce that since we talked about it 5 months ago at my annual appointment, I can have it inserted now.  Cue two children staring up at me with curiosity.  Thankfully, the nurses took Max to the nurses station (where he had them all in hysterics, by the way).  Zoe, however, refused to leave my side, so we strapped her in the stroller next to the table.  So there I am, making casual conversation with my doctor, feet up in stirrups, while Zoe cranes her head as far as it will go to see behind the sheet.  I’m sure if she could talk, she’d be all, “Hey Momma, what the sam hill is goin on behind that blue sheet?”

So I guess that’s just a typical day in the life of a stay at home mom I guess.  Don’t ask me about the scary metal instruments they brought out for the procedure.  We can talk about that another time.



So, you know how you have one of those days where you discover you have to replace your sliding glass doors in your  condo in Chicago because of leaks, thus making it impossible to buy the house that you were planning on building because it’s so expensive for those sliding glass doors, which really upsets you to the point where you spend half the day crying because you’re sick of renting a place in a town that you just moved to a year ago and still don’t really feel settled in and then your kid is yelling at you and in a terrible mood all day, shrieking that you’re a bad mommy and he doesn’t love you anymore and then you struggle through the grocery store with two annoying children, totally tired because you couldn’t sleep the night before, and the one ingredient you need for that night’s dinner–stir fry sauce–falls out of the bag when you get home and shatters all over the garage floor, creating a mess of brown gloop and you simply can’t face going back to the store and then burst into tears again and leave the sauce, making the whole garage stink and try to figure out what to make for dinner that night and your kids refuse to eat lunch and only want cookies and then it takes you over an hour to get your two year old down for a nap and she’s screaming and then wakes up after only a half an hour and after getting her out of her crib you spend 1/2 an hour on hold with the State of Colorado because they say you made a mistake on your sales tax form and you never get through to an actual human being and then the one human you manage to speak to all day is a woman at the DMV who argues with you about whether you had an emission’s test last year (which you did) and she tells you you need another one?  And then you discover at 5pm that you only have a thimble full of red wine left?

So that sums up my Tuesday.