{ Adulting Sweatshirt | Floral Stripes & Arrows Blanket }
{ Check out the full Spring Celebration Blanket Collection here }
Yesterday I decided to take my son to the dentist for the first time: an act that was actually less of a “decision” than an “order” – the kindergarten he’ll be enrolling at in the fall (TEAR) makes you fill out forms stating that your child is up-to-date on his vaccinations, has been to the dentist, et cetera. And he’s four and a half now, so it seemed like a good time to make that first dentist trip anyway. But I was pretty nervous, because…well, I don’t know, aren’t dentists just kind of terrifying to everyone? Even thirty-four-year-old me gets all agitated about the thought of that horrifying little scythe-thing that they use that makes a horrible sound against your teeth and leaves your gums all bloody (if, like me, you are the kind of person who replies to the question “Do you floss daily?” with “Of course I do!” and are totally lying).
I was picturing my son screaming-slash-clamping his mouth shut, me frantically waving an iPad loaded with Paw Patrol in his face, the dentist and his assistant looking at me with their best I Am So Judging Your Parenting Skills Right Now faces on, and my daughter wandering around somewhere way off in the distance, searching for sharp metal things to put in her mouth.
None of that happened except for the screaming part, which actually started before we even laid eyes on the dentist himself. We were in the waiting room when all of a sudden my son started crying and saying that his ear hurt. Now, I’ve been on this merry-go-round before – Indy had so many ear infections when he was little that we ended up having tubes put in his ears – so we abandoned ship and headed straight to the pediatrician, where it was determined that yes, he has a (double) ear infection, and then headed off to the pharmacy to pick up medication.
That was where the real fun began. Oh, god. Oh, Rite Aid.
We were only just walking up to the front door when my daughter, having been deprived of her afternoon nap as a result of the unanticipated medical semi-emergency, decided to have one of those truly epic temper tantrums that, very fortunately, children only seem to have once in awhile (although you sure as hell remember each and every one). You know, the kind of temper tantrum that involves simultaneous collapsing and thrashing, complete with Olympic-quality back arch and Rockettes-style leg kicks. And oh my Jesus, so much sound. My son, already upset about his ear and now supremely annoyed that Goldie was getting to sit in the cart instead of him (for the sole reason that it functioned as a kind of cage containing her flailing limbs), decided what the hell, let’s go ahead and lose it too. And so that’s how I spent the next hour: pushing a cart filled to the brim with two absolutely apoplectic children around a Rite Aid while waiting for the prescription that the pharmacist kept assuring me would be ready “in just a minute!”
And? Throughout the entire course of events, I was wearing a sweatshirt that said ADULTING on it. Because sometimes life is just perfect that way.
Here is me falling off a hammock while drinking a Corona like a Real Live Adult.
Photos by Sue Hudelson.
