Intestinal distress

The kids and I got around and left here about 11:30 for my doctor's appointment. I was supposed to stop and pick up some groceries after Ladies' Night last night, but Mr. Diva had already copped an attitude about me going out anyway, so I came directly home. Didn't matter we didn't have bread or anything else to eat, but I was trying to keep some semblance of peace. So anyway, because of the lack of groceries I was just going to stop at Wendy's and pick up some super cheap nuggets for the kids for lunch today. We were sitting in the drive-thru, waiting for them to cook the nuggets, when I hear Abby unbuckle her seatbelt. You just don't do that in Diva's van. Everyone remains buckled for the entire duration of the trip, no if's, and's or but's. But from the time I hear the click of the seatbelt to when I see my eldest daughter's face smack dab in my personal bubble was about 1.3 seconds. I said, "WHAT do you think you are DOING, young lady!?" She weakly replied, "I...do...not...feel...good...at...all. I need some FOOD!" Then she did this little hiccupy thing that can never been good right after you've heard the words "I don't feel good" come out of a child. I asked her if she was going to barf and she said no, she was just hungry. But I threw a Sonic sack at her (Thank God I have a messy van) and said to keep it just in case. I reassured her that as soon as the chicken nuggets were cooked we were going directly to Yaya's to eat them and I'd drive as fast as I could providing there were no cops along the way. She seemed satisfifed with that.

They finally brought the nuggets out to the van and I no sooner pulled into traffic than I hear Sam go, "THERE SHE BLOWS!!" and then the sounds of Abby barfing filled the van. Poor thing. I pulled over and she fell out onto some poor unsuspecting Miamian's back yard and puked all over it. Well, not all over it, but all over a small southwest corner of it. We then drove to Yaya's (aka Grammy's, aka my mother's house where my sister is living) where I ran in and got an actual trash bag and not a leaky, soggy Sonic sack. I went back to the van where I then handed everone else their food because they were all whining they were hungry. I called Jill to tell her that I had a puker and to ask if she wanted Chan to stay the rest of the day or did I need to take him to the other sitter while I was in town. She wasn't sure, she'd call me back. I then called the clinic to tell them that I could not make my appointment and to see about rescheduling. This is how that conversation went:

Me: Yes, this is Kristin Hoover and I have an appointment at 1:30 today except as I was driving into town my oldest daughter started vomiting.

IHC lady: Iew

Me: Yeah, tell me about it. So anyway, there is no way I can make my appointment today. I need to reschedule for tomorrow.

IHC lady: Well, let me see what I can do.

Me: Thank you so much.

(Much typing and rustling of papers and such)
IHC lady: Hmh. Well, Dr. Deakins ain't got nothing in the way of appointments until the 12th. Do you want one then?

Me: Uh no, I need one tomorrow. I have bloodwork that we were supposed to go over today and I really can't wait until the 12th. I need to get this situation resolved.

IHC lady: Well, I cain't get you in til then. He's gonna be gone for that holiday, ya know.

Me: Well, yes I realize the holiday is coming up but I can't wait till the 12th.

IHC lady: Well... you cain always come in through Triage again.

Me: Well, I suppose that's an option, but let me ask you this: The sign specifically states that Triage is not to be used for followup appointment of current illnesses. He's seen me already so I'm not sure I'd qualify for a Triage appointment.

IHC lady: Oh. Really? Hmh.

Me: I just don't want to sit in Triage all day only to be turned away. My foot really needs to be fixed this week.

IHC lady: Well, I don't thank anyone would turn you away from Triage.....

Me: Bet me.

IHC lady: Well, he's rather busy and there just ain't no appointment before the 12th. Do you want me to put you down for the 12th?

Me: No I do not. The 12th is not acceptable. I need an appointment this week. Period.

IHC lady: Hmh. Lemme see what I can do.

(I'm now on hold, standing in the 100 degree heat of my mother's front yard, watching my daughter vomit into a trash bag for the 4th time, getting madder and madder by the second.)

IHC lady: Kristin, he can see you tomorrow at 3:20. Will that be acceptable?

Me: You betcha. Thank you so much. Buh-bye.

If only I could be that assertive with my husband . . .


As soon as we got home I started herding everyone back to the bedrooms to lie down for awhile. I walked into the bathroom to check on how everyone's pre-nap pee break was going and at the bathroom door I was hit in the face by a stench that should not have come out of my three year old child's ass. Oh my gosh, that shit was foul. Literally. She was sitting doubled up on the potty going "OHHHHHHHHHHHH MY TUMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYY." Before I got her into her bed, she did that two more times. Poor thing. Sam so far has been okay, but tonight's karate so I figure he'll do some kind of public barf there. Motherhood rocks.

Mr. Diva called just now to ask if he could work an hour over. I told him I had no problem with that, but he had to be ready to leave again by 5:45 in order to get Sam to karate by 6:15. He said, "Eh, I'll just stay home with the girls and you can take him." I then told him that not only was Abby barfing, but now Kady has the diarrhea. He quickly said, "Iew. I'll be home in enough time to take the boy to karate." Wuss. He'll test the laws of time and space in order to avoid taking care of any intestinal purges.