Tuesday is the day I have the girls all to myself. It’s our fun day, with no other obligations. Last week, I took them spur of the moment to a small children’s museum. They loved it and I loved being able to do something different with them, something completely suited to their curious two-year old minds. Today, I’d planned to take them to the mall after their (very overdue) two-year checkups. We could wander around, ride the kiddie rides, pick up a few things at Target, maybe even do some Christmas shopping.

Silly me.

Just as I was getting into the car to drive them to the pediatrician’s office, my cell phone rang. It was the nurse at Davey’s school. For the second day in a row, he was pooping nastiness, so they thought it best if he came home. (He was not doing this at home, I swear.)

Why, oh why, did I pick up the call? Sigh.

Somehow, with the kindness and patience of the nurses, we made it through the checkup and flu shots with the three kids - complete with lots of screaming, crying, hair pulling. Davey is fine… fine enough to wander around the doc’s office and to pull apart the blood pressure cuff. Fine enough to fight his sister for the toy shopping cart in the waiting room. Fine enough to add fuel to the fire of the girls’ distress at being weighed and measured.

After the appointment, Mae fell asleep in the car, so I drove around until Jules succumbed also, then came home. Davey is acting like there is not the least thing wrong with him. I’m not upset with school - they do cut us a lot of slack already based on his medical history. I just wish I could have had the day I’d planned. I needed it.