time ain't on my side

Nik has really bad ear trouble. Really bad. So bad that he can’t hear anything anyone says to him…unless the person is me, and I am yelling. Dan keeps thinking I am angry and yelling at Nik in my “mean mommy voice.” This is not the case. Just to prove my point I told Dan to ask Nik a question about school. Dan smirks and asks, “Was today a library day, Nik?” No reply. None. Not even a “what, I didn’t hear you.” Again, “was today a library day, Nik?” Nothing. Dan looks over at me with a worried look on his face. Like this I say, “NIK, LIBRARY TODAY??!!??” Nik responds with, “NO, THURSDAY!” Not only do I yell to Nik, but he yells back. But these are shorthand conversations. We are able to leave out articles. Such pesky little parts of speech!

This means yet another trip to the doctors office. I am fed up with our doctor’s office. I tend to arrive 10 minutes early for my appointments. This extra 10 minutes will be added to the hour and a half that I will wait to actually go into the smaller waiting room, where I will spend at least 25 minutes waiting to see the actual doctor. The doctor will appear for 10 minutes and then I will wail another 15 minutes for the nurse to appear with another useless prescription. Wait wait wait wait wait wait! I am starting to feel like those refugees in Casablanca that are stuck waiting for an exit visa to get them to Lisbon. I really need to find a new doctor for the kids. Until then, we wait and wait and wait.

Everyone seems to be having a health crisis in our family. Dan’s sinuses are causing him to snore so bad I spend half the night kicking him in the shin to shut up. The kicking is a last resort. I start out nice enough, “Hon, um, could you please roll over on your side, thanks sweetie. Love you.” That lasts about 10 times. Then I become a little quicker to the point, “DAN, MOVE.” There is nothing like being woken up by a sudden snore and death breath in the middle of an otherwise peaceful night.

Emma is complaining that her “tummy hurts.” The only cure: suckers. Lots of tears and drama over the suckers. “Please please please…one more, I swear I only want one more, PLEASE!” Never before has please sounded so scary.

I myself have started working out with my PERSONAL TRAINER at the gym of death. Yes, I said personal trainer. Everyone else has been giving me such crap, why bother keeping it secret. There must be a word to describe what my body is feeling right now, but I am too fucking tired to think of it. Hopefully I will be so tired from the exercise that I will be unable to spend night after night fussing about life. And yet, not too tired to yell and kick at my little sinus boy. What a fragile eco-system this boy has!