Planning Planners

I should have learned when I got pregnant two months after I got married and 12 months before I had ever hoped to, to stop trying to plan. I can't plan anything without it getting sabotaged by...life. Speaking of sabotage, Bo uses that word now. It's pretty funny. He uses these random big words, accurately, but still often has no idea what's he just said. Like today's, "This is getting so complicated! What does complicated mean?" I explained to him that complicated means something that can be difficult to figure out. He offered, "Oh, so when you get lost, it's complicated for you to find your way back home. Even though our van tells you when you are going East oh' South?" This just might be the most accurate use of the word complicated--ever given. And also not very nice of him to bring up.

I was geared up for today to be a busy day. I had plans to watch my friend's two children for a few hours in the morning. Then I had a dentist's appointment at 3 and then at 6:30 an enrichment thingymabob. That's a full day for me. I mean, that doesn't really sound like a lot, but the unwritten, underlying difficulty is in the little details-- like trying to go 6 straight hours without getting snot smears and cracker sludge on my shirt.

Weeeeeeeeellllllllllllllll. Yesterday Bo kept complaining that his leg hurt. Actually, he complained that it was broken. I curtly replied, "It's NOT broken" every single time. He limped a little, but he still managed to put in a full day of play with his friends and toys.

Then last night he kept waking up yelling, and doing what I suspect is a 4-year-old version of cussing out....his lungs. He had a cough, and somehow, that was making his leg hurt. He woke up yelling/crying/screaming several times in the night.

For the past week, nighttime has been a particularly frustrating time for me. I don't get nearly enough sleep and my kids manage to be just as annoying precious and demanding as they are in the day time. The main difference being the interrupted-sleep hangover, and no Dr. Phil giving verbal smackdowns to idiots guests, to get me through.

So, last night wasn't too different. Avee kept incessantly trying to get in to our bed, Danyo had hunger issues, and Bo was, well, see above. Only this time, I got J to help with the midnight mayhem. I can't say I didn't get a little satisfaction out of seeing him sit on the bed in what looked like a drunken stupor, trying to figure out which screeching fire to put out first.

This morning when Bo refused to walk, I knew he probably needed to go to the doctor. I always have a raging internal battle about taking my kids to the doctor. Unless something is oozing. It's two very extreme thoughts vying for first place in my ever-so-rational mind. Those two thoughts are generally, "He's fine, just give it time, he'll be okay, take one of those chill pills you are frequently offering your children or your mother when she reads articles about soy or Childrens Tylenol" and "He's dying, can't you see it! See that freckle, it's tripled in size since you last looked at him. Woman, what are you waiting for, if you don't race him to the ER now you will be on Oprah in 6 months crying about how you 'just didn't think it could happen to me'. Don't be a statistic Nobody, don't be a hero."

I bailed on my friend who's children I was going to watch, and within seconds of bailing, asked if she could watch my kids instead.

I spent three hours doing doctor-office-like-things. Those things entailed, waiting, lugging a 42 pound kid, waiting, sharing my ipod, explaining multiple times that there was no known incident causing the pain, yes hypochondria is hereditary, yes he inherited that gene, yes I'm the donor, no he won't walk, yes, he did in fact yell out "this stupid cough is stupid!" at 3:42 am, holding/restraining a crazy mad 4-year-old while he had to have blood drawn TWICE, counting to 10 so one of us could learn how to breathe again, and laughing out loud when Bo yelled, "That was NOT a good choice to take my blood the FOHST time OH the second time and the whole thing was STUPID!" Saying stupid is his drug of choice. It's forbidden around here, but I have to say, having to get his blood taken twice because they didn't get enough the first time, warranted it.

The doctor's office called, his blood work looks fine, except for an elevated sed rate. It's not a real dramatic elevation, but they want to test his blood again on Thursday to make sure it hasn't gone up. I'm dreading the prospect of taking him to get his blood taken again. So in an effort to convince myself that it's necessary, I do what any intelligent, sane, and responsible mother does. I google "elevated sedimentary rate". Here's what I've learned about my boy's future: Sedimentation rate (sed rate) measures the speed at which red blood cells settle to the bottom of a test tube. The presence of certain abnormal proteins in the blood can cause red blood cells to stick together and sink to the bottom more quickly.
Sed rate is a screening test for many different diseases. A high sed rate is not specific to any one disease. Possible causes include:
Infection
Inflammatory diseases, such as rheumatoid arthritis and lupus
Blood cancers, such as leukemia and lymphoma
Cancers that have spread (metastasized)
An elevated sed rate may indicate an underlying problem. But further testing is needed to identify the cause of the problem.

Yeah Google, you give me peace of mind my friend.

I got home in time for my dentist appointment, but my babysitter* fell through. Guess that's what I get for sleeping with the help.

*I am however exploiting enjoying the extra-helpful, sweet, attentive, nature of one who should be in the doghouse but isn't because his wife is patient, kind, virtuous, and forgiving, all rolled into one big, puffy ball of hotness.