While reading Nikki's account of her bad day I was reminded of another day; the morning I was released from the hospital with the Caboose.
The day he was born, I was asked by the doctor. "I can release you Thursday evening or Friday morning." Jammin's school class was taking a fieldtrip to the Oregon zoo on Thursday (the day before school was out for summer). Dave was chaperoning.
Without hesitation I told the doctor "Friday morning." Thursday was shaping up to be a crazy day. So, Dave and I made a plan. He would drop Jammin' off at school Friday morning, take Buttercup for her stitches removal at the ER, and then ride the elevator up to my room. We'd check out of the hospital and pick up Jammin' from his last day of school (early dismissal). Then, we'd bring our brand new baby home.
Friday morning, I expected Dave and Buttercup to show up around 9am. I was showered, dressed, ready to leave. I just had to wait for the pediatrician to give the Caboose his final check and release.
The door opened at 9:30am and my whole family stumbled into the hospital room; Rag-tagged, dirty, tired, the worse for wear. They looked like refugees. Dave's hair was standing up on end.
"What happened?" I asked. My whole famiy had fallen apart without me there at home.
"Jammin's sick". And to make the point across, I watched my son run across the room and vomit into the hospital sink.
Then my husband left with Buttercup for the ER to remove the stitches. I watched them leave, her ratty hair in need of a wash and dirty little legs exposed by crop pants. I cringed with embarrassment.
Then the pediatrician walked in to give the Caboose his final check. As he looked over my newborn baby, Jammin' continued to puke into the sink.
I stood there, looking from one son to the other from puke to baby poop, feeling a little overwhelmed. I didn't know whether to cry or rejoice. THIS IS MY LIFE.