the eyes have it

As you know, both of our older kids wear glasses. Well, Jay made an appointment for one of them, Ryan, to get his eyes checked yesterday. While he was at work. Which meant I had to take EVERYBODY with me. Good times.


I took the kids skating with a group from church yesterday from 11:00 - 2:00, and the appointment was at 2:30. That should give us just enough time to get there, I thought. Luckily, Elijah napped in the stroller for the last hour we were at the skating rink, and I had a sippy cup and a snack.


Ready for baby? Check.


W has recently slacked off on nap taking, which if I might cry on your shoulder for just a moment, is breaking my heart. He needs a nap. I need a nap him to take a nap. Sadly, naps are few and far between anymore unless he just passes out or occasionally falls asleep in my lap, which is not all bad, because if Elijah is asleep, a nap on my lap lets me rest for a few minutes as well. But I digress.


Preschooler? It's a gamble, my friends. A gamble, at best.


The big kids? They know not to act all kinds of crazy in public. We will just have to step out on faith and put their learnin' to the test.


Anyway, we arrived on time, and the parking lot was FULL. Which honestly sent an anxiety-induced shiver down my spine. It's one thing to go somewhere with a gaggle of kids when it's virtually empty. It's quite another to squeeze into a place that usually has a minimum of chairs for people with appointments. I guess they aren't counting on patient and entourage. You guys with big families know what I mean. I just held my breath and went on in. I was handed the paperwork to fill out and found several chairs together so we could settle in. The big kids know they are supposed to help with the little ones, especially in public when I am the only adult accompanying them.


Emily found a book and some puzzles for W to play with before she started pouting and slumping out of her chair, absolutely dying of thirst. It must have been the dehydration that caused her to crumble into a heap on the floor and look longingly at the sippy cup.


The baby was pretty quiet in Ryan's lap while I filled out all the necessary papers, and then Ryan was called back, leaving Emily and me with the time bombs little boys.


W was being good. Almost too good. Working puzzles, even the alphabet one with my help, proudly calling out the letters he knew and putting them neatly away when he was finished. Yeah, something was definitely up.


Ryan emerged from "the back" and announced that he was ready to be fitted for contacts, which he has been wanting for a long time now, and new frames. Boys always need a back-up.


Aside: I naively thought he would have an exam, get a script for new lenses, and we'd be out of there to later select new frames, which can be a little time consuming.


O.K., I thought, while we're here, we can get it all taken care of. Ryan takes a seat while "Angie" fits him with the contact lenses. I felt I should be near when she let him do it himself in case he poked it in too hard and his eyeball should fall out. You know they would blame the mother if his eyeball rolled off the table or something.


In the meantime, Dr. Stasney, who can I just say is a total rock star, emerges and asks if anyone else needs to be checked while we're here. I quickly thought, Yes! Me! Pick me! I barely passed the DMV exam! Pick me! But knowing there is no way I can sit in a chair, read a chart, and say "better" or "worse" with any sort of accuracy with one eye on W while being mauled by a baby, it just ain't happenin' today, and I will once again drive home blind. So I offer Emily instead.


She instantly perks up, apparently not so thirsty after all, and heads to the back with Dr. Rockstar Stasney, and I, having produced another patient, now have more paperwork to fill out while I hold the baby, keep an eye on W who is growing a little bored with the puzzles, and make sure Ryan's eyeball is still in its proper socket.


I produce my license and an insurance card again because it's a new chart and proceed to scribble out her paperwork. I only hope they will remember in the future that her brother has a chart with identical information should they have trouble deciphering it.


Wyatt grows bored and antsy. Baby screeches with the sippy cup and without it. He's not happy being held, and I suddenly without warning turn in to those people who, you know, let their kids loose in public.


Aside #2 Before we had kids, we would sit in a restaurant or doctor's office (or anywhere in public) and watch parents who let their kids down or let them screech and think to our stupid selves how we will never do that and they should really do something about that screeching, and I'll admit with the older two we did a pretty good job maintaining order. I don't know what's happened to me. I try. The Lord knows I do, but we are engaged in some kind of midget warfare, and they are winning.


A nice lady dumps a puzzle on the floor near where Ryan is sitting so W can work it and Elijah can then steal pieces and make laps around the office with them, knowing W is not going to like it. Ohmyheavenlydays!


Ryan gets called to the back again to be checked with the contacts in, and I manage to get the little ones settled down a bit, when Emily comes out, eyes fully dilated, and now she's a little giddy and "soooo sleepy" that she just wants to lay her head on the table instead of being fitted for frames. I am thinking to myself, just pick something. Pink? Fine. Blue? Fine. Whatever you like...FINE.


Angie helps her select some cute little frames.


Ryan comes out from the back wearing a cool new pair of sunglasses that the doctor gave him, contacts in, frames selected and order placed. He's done.


Then Emily gets called. I feel I should go with her because I need to ask the doc a couple of questions. I look at Ryan to make sure he can handle the little ones for just a few minutes since the office has now cleared out quite a bit. He says yes with his mouth, but his sunglasses and tone say, "Hurry the heck up. Their timer is going off!"


I no sooner sit down in the chair in the exam room when I hear that familiar screech that says 'someone has taken something I want'. I scoot to the edge of the chair ready to run back down the hall when it suddenly stops. There it is again. I start to break out in a cold sweat. I need to finish talking to Dr. Rockstar. Then I hear what sounds like the little boys going at it. My heart is thumping out of my chest. Then silence. I quickly finish, say many, many thank-yous to the doc and head out to stop the melee.


I go to the desk to finish up, gush my apologies for the behavior of that crazy woman's my children, and try to get out of there.


But not before the nice receptionist leans up as if to whisper, "I was afraid he was going to hurt himself..." And I died. Right there in the office. "I looked up and saw him (and she puts her hands over her head) headed for the floor, and I was afraid he would get carpet burn, and we told him he probably shouldn't do that and...like that..."(and she points) And I died again. I looked over my shoulder to see him chair-diving. Diving off of the chairs onto the floor. With good distance. I mustered up my best "Don't make me keel you up in here" crazy-eyed look and pointed my finger and instantly turned into a crotchety old woman and shook my cane at him and through clenched teeth growled, "Nooooooooo!" He stopped momentarily and looked at me as if I had lost my mind. He was right.


I once again apologized. Profusely. And tried to exit the building quickly. Before they called security.


No kidding, Dr. Stasney and his staff are THE BEST! If you are in south Mississippi and you "cain't see" you must come see them. They blessed our family so much in outfitting our kids with what they needed. I think I will apologize again when I see him at church on Sunday. And I am bringing cookies to their office next week. By myself! And maybe a bottle of tranquilizers in case they have to endure another day like yesterday. They can pass them out with the clipboards. Or among the staff.


And if my husband ever schedules an appointment of this nature without it being his day off, I will poke his eyes out myself and then send him to Dr. Stasney with all the kids. Heh. That'll teach him.