So since 9:30 this morning, I have successfully:
1. Washed 5 loads of laundry,
2. Dried 5 loads of laundry*,
3. Unloaded the dishwasher twice,
4. Loaded said dishwasher once (I tried!),
5. Went to the grocery store,
6. Picked up children from school,
7. Learned of the Book Fair at school,
8. Visited Book Fair at school,
9. Resisted more than 25 pleas each of “Buy me this!” at Book Fair,
10. And took children to Sonic for SURPRISE! Happy Hour Drinks (Mark had An Important Conference Call, Please Take The Children Somewhere Else For At Least An Hour).
Now this is where it heads downhill…
11. While whoopin’ it up at Sonic, I must have left my brain in my Dr. Pepper marinade for too long, because I forgot all about what happens every Tuesday. Every stinking week. The girls have gymnastics. Ugh. I completely forgot.
(Pretend this is a blank space between these two paragraphs, because I have typed HTML code into this space for a new paragraph at least 45 times continuously and every time, the silly Wordpress or Firefox or TinyMCE or whatever deletes it. Ugh. Have you noticed that “Ugh.” is my new mantra? What is up with that?!!)
12. We dashed home to find gymnastics clothes, because we still had a fighting chance to get there (a little late, but get there, at least). I shot into the laundry room because I knew the gymnastics clothes were in the dryer, but when I got to the dryer, I could not find them anywhere. Ugh. Mark was still on the phone, so the kids were waiting in the hot sweaty garage in the car. I dashed into their room to get their “old gymnastics clothes”. When I showed up in the garage, one of the children informed me that “Those are too small! My underwear sticks out of those!”. It was then that I admitted complete defeat. Ugh again. So I will have to call for a makeup class. (And when I say that in my head, it sounds as if my children will go to a class to learn to apply lipstick and rouge. No. “Makeup” as in “You forgetful mother, you forgot to take your kids to gymnastics class. You know, the one that costs money? Yah, that one.” I’m sure you know this, but…no need to make assumptions, right? We’re all friends here.)
13. On top on everything else, I had neglected to plan for dinner. Oh, I have the entire rest of the week planned, but for some wild and unknown reason, Tuesday night is blank. Hm. Luckily for us, I found Pizza Hut Reader BOOK IT! Coupons in the bottom of my purse smooshed between a check I haven’t cashed yet (ha ha) and a granola bar that has the thickness of a postage stamp (how old is that thing, anyway?). So after Mark concluded his Important Conference Call, we made a delectable trip to Pizza Hut/Taco Bell where I paid $7.55 for 5 of us to eat dinner. Not bad. Thank goodness my kids can read!
I guess this afternoon proves that I’m the Slacker Mom. But look at the morning–Numbers 1 through 10! I wish I had taken pictures! Ask the washer! He’ll tell ya!
*In the spirit of being brutally honest, I need to inform you that there are approximately 5 loads of clean laundry on my living room couches waiting for me to fold them. ::clears throat::
Anyone else out there the oldest child in your family?
FINALLY!! A bit of research that makes sense…. The Plight of the Older Sibling
It’s about time MSNBC.com has something worth reporting…..
Here it is, what you’ve all been waiting for, to be sure:
Picture taken on Friday, May 16. Two weeks after exposure and one week after cortizone/steroid treatment began. Ironically enough, this picture was taken at the same park that diseased me (but far on the other side of the park where there are only frisbee golf baskets and open fields and none of those awful man-eating plants). Not too bad, eh? It’s still VERY itchy, but not too horrible. I’m going to make this my final poison ivy saga installment. It’s starting to cramp my style.
Thanks for checking up on me! More about fluff later!
The Rash of Doom has indeed made a journey.
My camera battery has died and I have not charged it yet, or I would show you the pathways of rashness. Good news! My camera is alive! Pictures forthcoming! I know you are relieved!
The title says “UPDATE!!” all happy-like, so I will give you the shortened version (there is a long version, believe me).
I put a call in to my doctor to get an appointment yesterday morning. At 3 minutes until 11am, almost an hour after I called, the nurse called me back to tell me that if I could be there by 11, I could have “the only appointment the doctor has open today.” Ha ha! I live at least 20 minutes away, so I knew this was impossible. PLUS! I still had in my charge, Luke, as well as a friend’s son, who I was watching part of the day for her. And if you think taking 2 small boys under 4 to a perfectly civil doctor’s office is a good idea, you have not exposed yourself to the grim realities of such an endeavor. Horrifying even to the most experienced! For the record, taking 3 children (even if they are all mine) between the ages of 4 and 8 is also no picnic, but I didn’t want to put off any beneficial doctor visit for fear of my entire arm needing amputation or some such extreme measure. Remember, I possess a flair for the dramatic.
To make the story shorter than it really is (ha!), I’ll just tell you that a dear friend called and offered to watch the 2 boys if I would go and get the Rash of Doom taken care of. So I “web-checked in” (online, that is) at the local urgent care clinic and was told of an hour long wait. Which was fine, because I still needed to take the boys over to the kind friend to watch them. (In all honesty, the kind friend had a babysitter watching her own child, because she was working on her computer, for reasons which do not matter for this discussion. I wanted to document this just in case the babysitter or any of her relatives are reading this. Heh. So, the babysitter actually offered to watch the kids, but in my friend’s house. Is this making any sense? I thought not. Read on. If you dare.) So much for the “shortened version”.
So, I delivered the boys and while driving back towards the clinic, they called and said the doctor was ready. I think, in actuality, this translates to “The doctor has now finished with the patient that is 43 people in front of you in line. Please come in and wait for an amazingly long length of time. But at least we have flat screen TVs in every waiting room and intriguing, yet inane, movies like “The Kid” with Bruce Willis playing on them. Thank you for entering yourself into our ever-expanding cue of exasperated patients.” And so it was.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I made it there and “live-checked-in”. And waited. Then they moved me to the Actual Examination Room. And waited. Then the nurse came in and inspected me. And then I waited another long time. Then the doctor (who looked all of 23 years old sopping wet) examined me and the diagnosis was made. Poison ivy! Surprise! But a “really bad case.” Then I waited some more. Then the nurse came in and shot me in an undisclosed location with steroid-juice. Then I waited some more. And the nurse came back and gave me a prescription for steroids. Since I was still oozing, I asked her if I should wrap it in a bandage. To which she replied, “I’ll go and ask her real quick.” Uh… How about if I just follow you out of this time warp, thanks?
In the end, there was indescribable amounts of waiting, but I got the meds and now, 3 days later, it looks much much better and I don’t think amputation is necessary. It still itches, but I’m ok with that.
Here is what my arm looks like today, May 12. It looks extremely creepy, but it’s “drying out” and on the mend.
So! All this to say, many, many thanks to my internet friends who suggested I visit the doctor. You were very helpful and I’m glad I have people who can share their experiences with me. Thanks!
Sounds like some sci-fi phenomenon, eh?
Nope. Just me. Being my friendly, happy, neurotic self.
Take a look at these pictures (have I ever told you how much I love my camera? It does ALL the dirty work.)….and just so you know, I’m putting them below the “More” line. They’re kinda gross. Well, no, to be perfectly honest, they’re really icky. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!
Continue reading The Journey of a Rash…