Dirty Little Secret

This morning I took the kids to get their flu shots.

As soon as the nurse called us back, Lovebug took off. Before that, he and Ironflower had been playing quite nicely in the waiting room (one of the reasons we go to this doctor is because the waiting room is so filled with toys). As we started down the hallway, Lovebug realized what was happening and took off down the hallway. Then he got distracted by the computers in the office area and ran in there. Then it was back to the door of the waiting room. I was actually pretty impressed that he remembered everything so well, we haven’t been there since July. But despite his brave attempts at escape and my joy in his smarts, I carried him to the room.

Ironflower had found the room herself by recognizing the number three. She handled the whole event like a champ. She DID NOT CRY when she got the flu shot. She did, however, remember to ask for a cookie as a reward. I am amazed that she didn’t cry. She is so tough. Lovebug cried, but not for very long. By the time we left they were both calm and happy again.

Lovebug did throw a tantrum about getting into the car but that’s pretty normal behavior these days (which is weird, since he’s usually happy once the car starts going).

I’ve had about seven blogs go through my head since I last posted, but today was a hectic day and I was busy on my other blog and so, my fabulous readers, I have forgotten them. But in the interests of the blogging commitment I’ve come to call NaBlowMe, here we go.

Tonight we had wine with dinner, as the cheap white Hubby used to make lemon caper sauce (this is the part where some other bloggers would provide you with a recipe, but since Hubby doesn’t actually use recipes I can’t help you) was not that bad. So we drank the rest of it. In doing this, I discovered that a glass of wine does make doing the dishes much more pleasant (you would think that I would have discovered this before, but usually when I have wine I do things like ignore the dishes). I have also discovered that a glass of cheap wine gives me a headache.

Today I went to the grocery store BY MYSELF. Thus I discovered that when given time to read all the labels and go slowly enough to remember all the things we need, I spend too much money. Hubby says I’m not allowed to go to the store by myself anymore, but I think he’s just jealous.

I also discovered that when Ironflower wears her shirt with the pink flowers, she looks very pretty. But when she puts on her plastic crown, seven bead necklaces and fairy wings, she looks beautiful. She told me so herself.

Finally, I discovered that Lovebug looks very handsome when he wears his cowboy hat, four bead necklaces and two rubber bracelets. Ironflower informed me about this as well. She’s a style maven, that one.

My daughter is tough. From seeming to improve on Saturday, things grew horrible on Sunday. After a disastrous attempt to have dinner at my parents’ house (like we do most Sundays), Mom (who is such a wonderful grammy and whom we appreciate so much) and I took Ironflower to the ER (Hubby was working). The Motrin (which is SO MUCH BETTER than Tylenol, BTW) wore off early and her fever shot up. Then she complained about an earache. She hadn’t complained of any pain the whole time and I almost felt relieved. Surely an ear infection explained the fever?

But despite thinking that I at least had an explanation, Ironflower was worrying me (and her grammy). So we went to the ER while my Dad watched Lovebug (which I needlessly worried about, they had a great time and I am very grateful).

Ironflower just clung to me, not wanting to talk or hear stories or sing. The wait was not as long as I’d feared, though it still left me enough time to mentally insult all the people waiting ahead of us. None of them looked that sick, let me tell you.

Anyway, the condescending nurse (apparently I made a lot of wrong decisions concerning Ironflower’s care, like dressing her too warmly even though she complained of cold and not giving her a dose of Motrin when the last one wore off, even though she was only supposed to take it every 8 hours and it had only been 7 hours, but it’s not like I care what that nurse thinks) finally led us to her triage room. Ironflower, despite feeling like hell, cooperated and barely whimpered during the poking and prodding.

We were sent to treatment room. Ironflower was given what must have been a double dose of Motrin, which she responded to fairly quickly. But still, it’s hard to get poked and prodded even when you’re feeling 100% and Ironflower handled the doctor wonderfully. It’s not that I would have been upset if she’d cried or protested or fought, it was what I expected. Hell, I cried when I got a spinal before Lovebug’s c-section (okay, the doctor also had some issues inserting it, but that’s another post). But Ironflower stuck her chin out and showed her will of Iron. She understood that everything was necessary so that she could feel better and so she handled it.

Color me impressed.

Ironflower is sick. While she and Lovebug both started the week with a cold, his is getting better and hers is not. But I promised myself that I was going to try to cut down on my whiny blogs, so I haven’t mentioned it. Because it must be my whining that is keeping people from commenting on the blog, right? Surely not everyone has stopped reading me? Or maybe you all think I’m as psycho as I sounded in my guilt post the other day?

Oh wait, this is about Ironflower. As I mentioned, Ironflower is still sick. She’s had a fever and has just been feeling pretty miserable. This morning when I was dressing her, I offered her a selection of comfy pjs and sweats. She looked at my selection of pastels and flowers and said, “Mommy, I think my Led Zeppelin shirt would make me feel better.” And damn if the child didn’t feel better today.

Oh, sure it could have been the Ibuprofen. Or maybe it’s just time for her to get better.

But when Ironflower was having her first experience with teething, you know what calmed her down? Led Zeppelin.

So if she believes in her shirt, so do I.

Check out this video: WHOLE LOTTA LOVE

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So this morning started out positively. When my alarm went off, I determined that both children were still asleep so I turned it off and slept until 8am. When I went to Lovebug’s room, he was perfectly cheerful and waited patiently for me to put away all of yesterday’s laundry. As I was dressing him (or, to be more accurate, wrestling him into a diaper and outfit while trying not to be a victim of grievous bodily harm), I heard Ironflower call for Mommy. She didn’t sound distressed, so I called back that I’d be there momentarily.

In the minute it took me to finish dressing Lovebug and walk across the hall, something possessed my daughter. She screamed in anger when I opened the door. I offered to shut it so that she could open it herself. She screamed at me to go away. So of course I walked in and asked what was wrong. Lovebug ran into hug her, which resulted in a glare bigger than the one she gave him when he took her kitty.

She is not yet three and I really wasn’t prepared for all this adolescent drama. So I started putting away her laundry, hoping she would calm down and tell me what was going on. Instead she and Lovebug began opening and shutting the door (he shutting, her opening) and I could just see the smashed fingers. I told them to stop please. Lovebug headed straight for the books but Ironflower headed straight for me. And then she smacked me. In the face.

Have I ever mentioned that Ironflower has never been smacked? And the only time she has seen a smack is when I’ve smacked her brother’s hand to stop him from pulling her hair? At first I was shocked. First the screaming and now this? Where was my sunny little morning girl?

My second reaction, of course, was anger. I picked her up and put her back on her bed. I said things like, “We don’t hit! Our family uses words! You don’t hit your mommy!” until I calmed down. While dressing her, I tried again to ascertain what the heck was up with her. No luck.

We did all the hair and toothbrushing and Lovebug and I went downstairs. She finally apologized. I have had no explanation about what was wrong or why she woke up so angry. So I am still completely confused. Who was that child? And what I am going to do if she comes back?