This was the first round of tests, an echo cardiogram and a heart rate monitor to wear for 24 hrs. I was supposed to have a stress test but, I had rolled my ankle the day before while tripping over my puppy and trying not to crash into Jake on our afternoon walk/sprint. Being that I was too frail for the stress test I did the others and rescheduled for Thursday, at this point what’s one more visit? I am already getting hellos from the staff.
As I left the office in my workout clothes with the wires and electrodes hanging from me, I was keenly aware of the stares. I know they weren’t thinking this is some girl who runs marathons and needs to be monitored to remain in tip-top shape, no they were thinking, “Oh, so young, so sad.“ I really wanted to announce to the office that I was 97 when I walked in and that they took me back and ’Cocooned’ me. “Seriously, ask the nurses to peel there faces off.”
Instead, I walked out with my little 24hr card, a log for episodes or stressors. Funnily enough, my father in law called the minute I walked in the door. He wanted to know if I could pick up and store his bed in our garage storage because my husband told him, “no problem.” This is the room which is now an office, which had so little space, we had to give away our own extra bed to fit in the desk. Now, I am set up to be the unwavering, nay saying bad guy. “Can you excuse me a second, I want to write something down.“
Father in law: “What”
“I’m wearing this heart monitor and I’m wondering if this phone call is affecting it.“
This went on throughout the day as I kept a mini diary of my moment to moment stuff.
1PM: Have a great idea for an article.
1:45PM: First round of carpool, pick up 3 wound-up 1st graders and listen to them argue over which seat they get and who gets to play the Nintendo DS.
2:15PM: Puppy drags me and Jake around neighborhood despite our best efforts to drag him.
2:45PM: Second round of carpool to pick up Ryan.
3PM: Have a playdate for both kids, but realize Jake has a fever, so I had to bring him home.
3:15PM: Still listening to Jake crying and telling me I’m the…oh, what did he call me? That’s right, “the worst Mommy ever.”
3:30PM: Confess to being the ‘worst Mommy ever,’ just to make it stop. Then I make a list of all the other mommies he could go live with. This is followed by a quick “You’re not the worst mommy. You’re the best mommy.” To which I respond, “and don’t you forget it.” How quickly the threat of giving him away works.
4PM: Double shot of espresso.
4:20PM: Poop.
5PM: Clean puppy poop and pee out of my new carpet.
5:30PM: Try to walk dog with Ryan on her bike, crying that her chin strap, which is barely touching her neck, is too tight. Jake on his Ripstick, a mile ahead where I can’t see him, won’t answer my incessant screaming down the street.
6:15PM: Ask kids 37 times what they want for dinner, while listing available menu items… To no response.
6:30PM: My children are melting down, hitting each other and then taking turns telling on each other in indescribably high pitched whines that are making my ears revolt and my puppy try to hang himself.
7PM: Call them in to have the turkey and cheese sandwiches I have made for them only to hear, “Turkey I didn’t ask for Turkey.” “Yea, we don’t want turkey. This turkey is yuck!”
7:10PM Mark walks in the door and goes to our room to change.
7:15PM Put out peanut butter and jelly for Jake and a grilled cheese cut in the shape of a heart for Ryan.
7:30PM: Put out just peanut butter for Jake and a waffle cut in the shape of a heart for Ryan. “Kitchen’s closed.”
7:31PM: Check gage to see if I’m having a heart attack.
7:32PM: Mark reenters and starts bugging me about calling Verizon and about insurance.
7:37PM: Manage to escape conversation to give Ryan her bath and get Jake in the shower.
7:40-8:10PM: Play naked Barbie’s with Ryan in the bath. Ryan is all the pretty girls and I have the choice of being the boy, the homely faux Barbie with cut hair, or the queer fluorescent green sea horse. Thanks Ryan.
8:11PM: Beg pruney Ryan to get out of the bath and end up threatening to take a star from her star chart, which I actually only pretend to keep.
8:15PM: Kids are in pj’s and have managed to sneak into my room for some late night cartoon network.
8:20-8:30PM: The time it takes to bribe, threaten, yell, and beat them into submission.
8:31PM: Family race into bedrooms.
8:32PM: Ryan is crying, because someone did something she either did not like or does not allow, during the family race.
8:33PM: Do-over of the family race, adhering to Ryan’s strict guidelines and allowing her to win.
8:34PM: Mark walks back to our room thinking the night is done, and turns on sports. If there is no new sports he actually rewatches some game on ESPN classic that he already knows the outcome of. WTF?
8:35PM: Ryan begs me to read 3 stories which I shrewdly negotiate down to 2. Once I’m halfway into 1, Jake slinks in trying to be unnoticed and slyly gets in bed with us.
8:40PM: I finish the first story and then tell Jake to read the next one as I slink, trying to be unnoticed, out to the laundry room. I like this trick, it gets him to read and gives me a one book reprieve.
8:50PM: I tell Jake he must go and he then begs me to come into his room after I leave Ryan’s. Why not? I require no personal time. Nope all need it an hour to plug myself in to a wall socket and I’m recharged for the morning.
9PM: I now find myself singing 2 songs of Ryan’s choosing, doing a tickle monster, and two kiss attacks. What can I say, she’s really cute and she does a great quivering lip.
9:10PM: Bring Ryan a milk in a sippy cup, as requested.
9:11PM: Give her one more big kiss, as requested.
9:12PM: Take the toys that are scaring her out of her room.
9:13PM: Fix her pillow.
9:14PM: Threaten to take more imaginary stars away.
9:20PM: Inform Ryan that this is “the absolute last time I am coming in.” That’s right, even if you give me the eyes and the lip, I know how to put my foot down!
9:25PM: Go into to see Jake who is passed out.
9:30PM: Allow puppy to drag me around the block, despite my best efforts to drag him. Watch him relentlessly bark at a black trash bag that someone has left in the swail. I then threaten to take away stars from his imaginary star chart.
9:45PM: Run in to tell Mark, we should have sex just to fuck with the Doctor, but he is fast asleep. Yea well, I’ll be fast asleep soon. Right after I do the dishes and straighten up, and check on my kids, and wash-up, and brush my teeth, and floss, and take my vitamins, and play some kind of word game on FB with people I haven’t spoken to in 18years to remind me I have a brain.
Day 2 in the bag, stay tuned… day 3’s a doozie.
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