Mama TV

Have you ever seen the movie "ED TV?" It's about a guy who lives his life normal until one day he realizes his life is really just a script for a live television show. Maybe I'm crazy, but I'm convinced my life must be a script for a comedy/drama television show. It's gotta be true. Nothing else could begin to explain the series of mishaps that transpired in my home on Friday.

The morning started out typical, well, typical enough for our house--baby ransacking the fridge and dropping a big bowl of chicken and mashed potatoes, only to shatter on the kitchen floor. After cleaning that up, and making notes to pick up childproof locks for my refrigerator, I decided to focus on doing laundry that day. My children were running out of clean clothes that fit them, and it was getting harder to convince my three year old, that his pajamas, doubled as an outfit.

My baby had been sick for a few days, and his cough seemed to worsen. I've become pretty adept at distinguishing a viral illness, which typically needs no antibiotics, from a bacterial one. This little skill of mine transpired over the last five years of child rearing and many co pays at the doctor for viruses that "run their course." (I come from a long line of self-diagnosers, though I don't encourage this) So, I decided to make an appointment for my son, and booked the only slot they had, 1:15 that afternoon. The second I hung up the phone, I remembered that I had booked a dentist appointment for my daughter at 2:30, at an office 45 minutes away. Perfect. I couldn't cancel that, because those dental appointments usually take months to reschedule. So I proceeded to cancel the doctor appointment, but then convinced myself, I would accept the challenge, and just try to make both appointments.

I loaded the kids in the van. My daughter was so excited for her first dentist appointment, she could hardly wait. We headed towards the doctor, and I looked back and noticed that my baby had fallen asleep...what to do, what to do. Ah, the dilemmas of motherhood. Do I wake my sleeping child, only to torture him at the doctor's appointment? Sounds like a fun time to me. I quickly make a U-turn and decided to forgo the doctor, and to reschedule later.

I figure now I have ample time to make it to the dentist, so I stop for some gas and a cup of Joe. First mistake. I could not have foreseen the massive traffic I was going to run into, that would make me late for yet another appointment. When I realize the time, I step on the gas, and maneuver in and out of lanes, just scathing numerous accidents, only to make it to the dentist about five minutes late. I look in my rear view mirror and see my daughter's gleaming smile, as she squeals for joy. (Obviously, her first trip to the dentist) For the fifteenth time that trip, I answer her daunting questions of what color toothbrush she'll get, and what flavors of toothpaste the dentist will have. As I go to unload my waking baby, I rush to unbuckle his cookie crusted carseat, and accidentally step my flip-flop into a pile of mud on the sidewalk. Perfect. (Wave to the cameras, honey.)

We rush up the thousands of stairs (Aren't any offices on the first floor?) and walk inside the sweetest, most quaint dentist office, you'd ever see. The waiting room alone could keep my toddler busy, with it's bounty of toys and activities. Finally, something goes right. As I swing my massive backpack/diaper bag around, I say my name to the receptionist. The sweet, young girl was a bit of a soft talker, so I have to read her lips in order to understand what she is saying to me. What? I say. It's as if time slows down, as I read her lips say to me, "I'm so sorry, I tried to call you."
"What do you mean, you tried to call me?" I reply as I dig my fingernail into my hand.
Long story short--this particular pediatric dentist is especially elderly, and apparently inadvertently picked my daughter's dentist day, to be rushed off in an ambulance.
"Will he be okay?" I ask. She whispers, "I just don't know." I send my well wishes and head out the door. Perfect.

See what I mean? Mama TV--you'll laugh, you'll cry...mostly cry. Everyone knows drama is always the perfect ending to a show, my show that is. But wait...the saga continues.

I head home with my sick baby, and disapointed daughter. My husband gets home from work after a four hour commute, due to incredible traffic. This night was supposed to be a date night for us. We decide to just put the kids to bed, and go out at around 9 p.m. to Barnes and Noble for some quiet magazine reading and coffee. Who needs fine dining, when you can read a book, uninterrupted. My kids surprisingly go down to sleep easy, and the plan takes action. (All this, to build up to the finale.) My parents stay with the kids as my husband and I head to the bookstore.

As we pull up, the store looks surprisingly busy for this hour of the night. We walk in only to discover it is "Harry Potter Night." Perfect. The new book is being released, so they are throwing some sort of loud, costume and contest party. I couldn't believe my eyes.(Did I mention how much I dislike Harry Potter?) Hundreds of people dressed up like witches, sorcerers...Harry Potter. There are no seats let alone even enough room to walk through the aisles. I feel my heart rate increase as I pop a squat in the corner of the autobiography section. Ahh...a nice quiet evening to end a chaotic day with the kids...perfect.