There a few things I know for certain. One of them is that whenever M travels, one of the kids will bring home the stomach flu. There are many snippets of these years that I know I’ll forget one day, but among them is NOT the time that Efram threw up directly into my mouth.
I know I tend to exaggerate, but this actually did happen, and not just in my imagination (as Fiona would say, “Is this for real life?”). M was away on some trip or other. Efram was not yet two. He cried. I picked him up. He pointed to his mouth, so I put my face right near it to have a look inside and bada-bing, he projectiled right into mine. He’s nine now, but I’ve never been able to look at him the same way since.
This time around it was Sidney. She’s been puking on and off all week. Today, I thought she was over the worst of it, and I desperately needed to get out, so I did what all morons do when they are stuck with sick, cranky, depleted three year olds, I headed to Target. In my defense, I went for a flu shot. But on the way there, she announced that she had to puke again, so I grabbed an lidless Tupperware that had been sitting in the car for a few good weeks. (If you must know, I only own Tupperware of the lidless variety. I can keep a container and a lid together for about two weeks max.)
She yacked into the container and shoved it at me. So there I was, driving around the Bronx carrying a open container of brown, lumpy vomit.
Needless to say, although I had planned on it, I did not make lentil soup for dinner.
Fortunately for me, one does not need to see the doctor for stomach flu. I say this because we haven’t yet been accepted by the pediatrician.
That’s right. Accepted.
Although most of my fears about New York City have NOT been confirmed, it is slightly more competitive here than the Pacific NW. Shocking, I know. It seems that just like the New York Marathon (this Sunday!), before some NYC pediatricians will see you, you need to be accepted first. I therefore had to have an entire medical history for each kid sent in and reviewed. I filled out all the paperwork and sent it to our pediatrician in Seattle. Weeks went by. At some point I got on the phone, “Listen Seattleites, put down the coffee in the cup you brought from home, roll up the sleeves of your effing Polartech, and get me those files.”
Sadly, unlike New Yorkers, Seattleites do not respond well to threats. The files are trickling in. I think three of the kids have been accepted. I do not know if Sidney is among them. I’m considering getting some letters of recommendation, maybe even writing a personal statement. Perhaps I’ll even bake a cake for the admissions officer.
Now I’m really getting carried away.