Mother of the Minute
Yesterday, for about, oh, a minute, I felt like the best mom ever. Little Boo has a cold (no biggie, right?), but had been tugging on one of his ears, so I figured it best to get him checked out. He’s also teething BIGTIME, so I knew that could be the ear tugging culprit. Still, I don’t screw around with ears. Runny noses and mild coughs? Yes. Ears? No. So I get all I’m so great I’m going to call the doc’s office right as they open at 8 am and get Boo an appointment. I have to add as an aside that I’ve seriously waited on hold for about forty minutes just to speak with a nurse in the past. And this is why I’m feeling all I’m gonna get momma on yo’ ass when I make the call. Turns out, my ‘tude wasn’t necessary. I got a human being on the phone almost immediately (gasp!) and an appointment for 9 am (double gasp!). I hung up the phone feeling like the best mom ever!
And then, about a minute later, my newfound confidence waned. Okay, waned really isn’t the right word. More like went poof. Had to put Boo in the pack ‘n’ play (dear god, not that) so I could get my coat on, run outside, turn the car on so he wouldn’t freeze his little tushy in this horrendous New England weather, and grab the car seat (again to save his tushy). Well, you’d think I’d just left him on a doorstep and thrown up my hands. And the true horror of actually getting him in the car seat. Now, my kid can’t talk. He’s nine months old. But my husband and I have a theory: He can curse. He can curse with the best of ’em. It sounds something like this: Doh, doh, doh, doh, doh! (Imagine furrowed brows and lots of pouting.) Then come the tears. And the flailing. And the You’re the worst mom, ever! cries. I manage to get the little bugger into the seat, mittens on and staying on (no small feat), and amidst the sobs and screams, I take a brief moment of silence to lament my still half-full cup of coffee lonely without me in the living room. And I think (and I kid you not) Is there a latte in this for me? My kid is flipping out, sick, and about to go to the doctor’s office, and I want a latte. Yeah, I’m good.
I’ll spare you the doc details, but the good news is that his ear is fine and he just has a cold. And I’m thinking How can I get me a latte? I need me a latte. Not one of those Dunkin Donuts ones, either. A good one. But alas, I realize that lugging my pathetic little bugger into a Starbucks will just be brutal for both of us. Until…I remember the drive-thru Starbucks. Those have to be the most wonderful words ever — drive-thru Starbucks. So yes, I went out of my way to score a latte with my sick kid.
Well, because it takes me forever to actually drink a cup of coffee, what with diaper changes, laundry, dishes, yadda yadda, I still have a half a cup (barely warm at this point) left when I decide it’d be a brilliant idea to hold my 20 pounder in my left arm while he attempts to feed himself his bottle just so I can reach for the latte with my right hand. You can see where this is going. Bye bye, latte. All over the kitchen floor. And the cabinets. And my not-yet-hung-up-slung-over-the-kitchen-chair cream down coat. Sigh. Back in the pack ‘n’ play.