9:00a: Today we (Josh and Zach, not me) did the first of eight beginning swim lessons. You'd think that a 35-minute lesson wouldn't be all that big a deal, but we might as well have been preparing for a trip to the Olympic time trials in Mission Viejo. First, they have to have a swim suit (it's frowned upon to enter the pool without it, though I'm certain both boys would do it quite happily). Then there's flip-flops or swim shoes (What to choose? What to choose?). A liberal application of sunscreen is a must, so the ritual torture of the children ensues ("I don't want the spray kind!" "Don't spray it on my face!" "I don't mind if I get burned!"). Of course, bringing a towel is the kind thing to do. And, don't forget Zach's earplugs so the water doesn't make a beeline down the tubes in his ears, causing heinous ear infections. That's just to get IN the pool.
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| That's Zach with one of the instructors. He's doing his level best not to get those glowing orange earplugs anywhere near the water. I'm pretty sure Josh is making up a song that has hand motions and a really loud chorus. |
10:15a: Then we were off to the beloved Dr. Abrolat for our pre-kindergarten physical (again, Josh and Zach, not me). That required that we pack clothes to replace the wet stuff (though Josh insisted he would be quite comfortable in a wet suit for the rest of the day). Being ever-so-efficient, I chose clothes that would match the aforementioned shoes that would be worn to the pool. They changed in the back of the car, though that's getting harder to do since they don't want anyone to see their 'private.' Since it was a pre-kindergarten checkup, we had to have some district forms filled out. I HAD to remember those, so I left them in the car from the dental appointment we had for the same reason last week. At least if I forgot to bring them in to the doctor's office they wouldn't be far when I had to go retrieve them. Again, ever-so-efficient.
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| We hugged Dr. Abrolat goodbye this time because we must change medical insurance and can't go to her anymore. Much sobbing, sniffling and slobbering...mostly from me. |
11:05a: Now, I knew there'd be shots and, possibly, a blood draw involved, but I chose to keep that to myself so the boys wouldn't obsess on it all morning. Big mistake. Josh took one look at the shots and screamed, "I want the nose spray kind! I want the nose spray kind!" Unfortunately, that's flu mist and we weren't doing that today. A very strong nurse assisted me in holding his arms, legs and teeth still so the shots could hit their mark. He pronounced it the "worst day ever" and made me promise every hour for the rest of the day to tell him if he had to have another shot (I think that's so he can run away from home first). He also didn't like that I chose his leg for the shot instead of his arm because he has no meat anywhere on his body, so the leg had to be at least marginally better than his arm. He said he'd rather have the shots in his foot. Um, no you wouldn't. Zach got his shots in his arm, didn't move a muscle, didn't cry and then promptly rubbed it in his brother's face, starting another wave of hysterics from Josh. Thank the good Lord they didn't need to have their blood drawn.
11:20a: We were back in the car and I was scrambling to find something, anything, to stuff into Josh's face to make him stop crying and accusing me of child abuse for the shot incident. One fruit snack and two bags of chips later, he settled down. We drove to Downtown Disney to make a pilgrimmage to Build-A-Bear to use the gift certificate that Uncle Jeff and Uncle Will.I.Am gave to the boys for their birthday. We could have just gone to the local mall, but we HAD to go to Downtown Disney with Kitty Mama and Georgia because it is just sooooo much more fun. It even has a second floor with more overpriced, stuffable things. It took all of my brain power to remember the gift certificate this morning. I also had to remember the car from RideMakerz that Zach got last week (with another gift card) that stopped working the day we got it. (Turns out it comes with super-short-lived batteries that you're supposed to replace right away. You'd think they'd tattoo that on your forehead so you don't look like an idiot carrying in your perfectly functioning, overpriced remote control vehicle a week later.) I also had to remember to bring the stroller because there were going to be many large boxes (two Build-A-Bears and a RideMakerz car), several drinks, a purse, leftover lunch, other miscellaneous food items and wet wipes.
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| Zach chose a weiner dog and named him 'Friend.' Josh chose a woolly mammoth and named him 'Woolsworth.' |
3:17p: Because we parked in the lot where the first three hours are free, we needed to high-tail it out of the place before our time was up. Getting out of World of Disney was nearly impossible. (Do I want a small sucker or a marshmallow Mickey head or some disgusting gummy shish kabob? They both chose the shish kabob.) We're walking, we're walking. Then Zach got something sharp in his shoe. As we were getting it out, the Disney Monorail drove overhead and Zach had to stop everything to gaze upon it...for a loooooong time. "Hurry up!" yelled some crazy lady (yes, I do mean me). I was pushing the ridiculously overloaded stroller while carrying one of the B-A-B boxes as Josh kept up a steady whine of "I'm so tired!" "I can't walk anymore!" "My feet hurt!" "My shots hurt!" "Why didn't you tell me we were getting a shot today?" "How much farther?" Finally, at the car. Seat belts on. Everyone has water for the road. Need to be out by 3:28; it's 3:27. Go! Go! Go! Then, ever so casually, Josh says, "I have to go potty." I briefly consider telling him to cross his legs really tight until we get through the gate, but I can't chance it. So I get out my super-fabulous portable potty (see Great Twinventions to get your own!) and set it up in the back of the car. When he's nearly done, I hear Zach's seatbelt unfasten. "I have to go, too." I'm doomed. Potty done, we race to the exit as I prepare to give the many, many reasons why I should not be charged $15 for being 3 minutes past our scheduled departure time. I'm sweating. Feeling a little sick. And then I see that the gate is up and you don't even need a stinkin' ticket to get out.
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| I'd be happy to hand this to the parking attendant as I exit the Simba lot, but apparently he had a nap to take. |
That was all by 3:30p and I was done. Pooped. Finished. Kaput. Literally sore. I can't even go into what all went on after we got home because re-living it would simply be too cruel (to me and, I suppose, to you because then you'd have to read even more of this nonsense). Luckily, the dinner-eating, bathing and tooth-brushing went amazingly quickly and they were asleep by 8:11p (did you really think I wouldn't watch the clock?).
So, that's why I prefer to do one thing a day. Too many things in one day and they begin to expect constant excitement. I say let them realize now that life isn't always full of thrills and adventure. It's just as important to know how to simply be. There's a reason God created crayons, glitter glue, DVDs and mud...for when Mom doesn't want to pack for the Olympic time trials, of course.
