On Monday Oliver came home with lots of red paint on his shirt, his arms, and a very large patch under his chin and on his chest. Hmmmmm. I didn't understand his explanation but it washed off easily and I forgot about it.
On Tuesday, Oliver went to the doc and got three shots. He does not like what he called "the pens." When you're little, shots hurt and then you cry and then it's over and you forget about it. When you're four, it sticks with you longer, as in days. He's still talking about the pens.
At pick up time I found a note from Oliver's teacher that explained the red paint. It seems the class was doing a painting activity that involved straws. It took Oliver a long time to learn to suck liquids through a straw so it's not surprising that he's proud of this skill. A little too proud, as it turns out. The note described how upset he was and what steps the educators took. It implied he didn't ingest any of paint. Hold that thought.
After dinner Oliver went to the potty. He asked for privacy, then asked me to come back. When I wiped his bum, the toilet paper was totally red. The poop in the bowl was totally red. After about 7 seconds of panic, I remembered the note, the paint, the straw. It all made sense. Then I sent the teacher an email of thanks for the note, as she had just saved us a trip to Children's.
On Wednesday I went to the dentist for my first cleaning in way too many years. Double digits. It wasn't bad at all and I will be a good girl now. Flossing and everything. Six month visits. You know the drill. Pinky swear.
Then the kids had their appointments. Oliver was doing great until some tartar was spotted on his bottom teeth and had to be removed. He didn't like that much. Worse than the pens, he said. Cleaning postponed, but only momentarily.
Eleanor was next. They never saw her teeth. Ahem. We'll try again another time. While she was being tortured (or so it sounded) Oliver and were negotiating in the waiting room. We made a great deal. He would sit in the chair and let the nice lady clean his teeth if I knelt down next to the chair and let him play with my hair. It was quite a sight, or so I assume from the looks on people's faces as they walked by the room. Mission accomplished however, and Oliver will now happily show you his shiny teeth.
Then the dentist came in to take a closer look. We suspected Oliver had a cross bite, complicated by enthusiastic and chronic thumb sucking. It seems that would be a walk in the park compared to what is really going on. He's got something skeletal and funky with his jaw formation. He's got two extra teeth on top. One is fused to another tooth. We're headed to a specialist in a few weeks. And though we only have three more weeks with his current teacher, she's agreed to help us get started on the thumb issue, bless her heart.
(Still with me? I'm just getting started, unfortunately. I suggest the faint of heart stop here, and that means you, Jenn.)
On Thursday we decided Eleanor needed to see the doc for her eczema. It was out of control and she was scratching herself raw. As a bonus, she also had a nasty cough. CD took her in and doc was worried she might have scabies. (I itch just from typing that word.) I looked at the pictures on WebMD and didn't think she had it but I itched for a couple of hours anyway. We got her an appointment that afternoon with a dermatologist. Right at naptime, of course. We kept her amused until about 30 seconds before the docs (4 of 'em) walked in, when she promptly hit THE WALL that 2 year olds hit when naptime is 90 minutes late. It was the fastest appointment ever. They all looked, did a minimum of poking, one guy wrote a script, and they all promptly bolted in an effort to get as far away as possible from the screaming. I picked up the vat of cream as soon as she was asleep. After two applications, it seems to be working. She's sleeping better and not scratching herself nearly as much.
While picking up the cream I finally remembered to get Eleanor a new hairbrush. We've been having world war III every morning and night as I try to get the knots out of her hair. I've been very close to cutting it all off. It seemed worth a couple of bucks to try a brush before taking drastic measures. This too has been wildly successful.
In all the craziness I forgot to pick up my veggie crate. Say it with me. FAIL.
On Friday I had to explain to Oliver that his favorite baseball player was given a 50 game suspension. I kept it as simple as I could. He has started telling me he has sad news, or happy news so I told him I had sad news. Manny broke the rules and had to have a very long "sit down". That's what happens to him at school occasionally so I ran with it. We talked about how Manny will be back in July and how long that is from now. He seems to understand and took the news surprisingly well.
Then we all went to the spring fling at Oliver's new school (come the fall). They are being so very nice to us. The head of the lower school came over to greet us. So did the head of admissions, and one of his teachers. For a change, Oliver got over his fear of trying the various games and ended up having a great time. Eleanor joined the fun as well. I love that place more and more all the time.
Alas, it's not over yet. On the schedule for tomorrow: March for Maddie, CD taking kids to Gymkhana, all of us meeting up at the Spring Fair at Oliver's current school, and me heading back there after naptime to volunteer for a couple of hours.
Sunday is Mother's Day and our sixth wedding anniversary. All I want is to sleep until noon. Place your bets.