get dressed. Get Dressed. GET DRESSED!

I know now why when their children are grown mothers are crazy. You all know what I'm talking about. We love our mothers but by the time we're all out of the house they've fallen off the edge of sanity.

Perhaps it's the constant repetition of simple requests that fall upon (seemingly) deaf ears.

Perhaps it's that they go where you are not so as to make their desired messes. "Mom's here! Switch rooms!"

Perhaps it's that whenever you are cooking dinner, it's a battle to cook dinner and shoo the children away from the fridge so as to protect the apatites, avoid the obstacle course being laid out by the littlest one or even that after the table is ready they don't want to eat all of a sudden only to come back at bed time saying they're starving to death.

Perhaps it's that when I give them different things for lunch they don't want what's been prepared for them. They both want what the other one has, but when the meals are switched before anybody has gotten their cooties on the food they whine that the want their original dish after all.

Maybe it's that after a full day of running around with the little darlings, bed time begins a two hour game of get out of bed which leaves mom without any time to wind down.

I could go on.

So I had an appointment with Hunter to be seen about the rash on his face that hasn't been getting any better. I told him a half hour in advance to get dressed. Crunch time arrived and he was still running around in pajamas and had no time to eat breakfast. I got him dressed myself and then after a successful shoe hunt... we had to go.

Trying not to be completely heartless, I made him a chocolate protein shake that he could drink in the car on the way in lieu of the breakfast he didn't have time for. However, much to my chagrin he liked it so much that his stomach got overfull and he had one of those bile-burps. Hunter has a very weak stomach. Anything could set him off. This did.

We're going down the freeway and Hunter starts throwing up all over himself. Which grosses him out more and more barfing ensues. I can't do a thing. I have no barf bucket (mental note) I have no change of clothes (another mental note). My one happy fact is that Hunter is wearing a zipped up raincoat which deflects the barf off of his shirt. His pants are a mess.

So we walked into Kaiser with Hunter covered from top to bottom in chocolate barf. It smelled more like barf than chocolate.

We got up to the window to get registered and the receptionist told me that our appointment was at 8:30 not 9:30.

No, no....She said that the 8:30 was gone and gave us 9:30.

"I'm sorry Ma'm. You're appointment was at 8:30. "

(Did I mention that I'm starting to develop an eye tick?)

"...I'll see if the doctor can fit you in."

We did see the doctor. Hunter's rash is highly contagious (oh fabulous) but we were given antibiotics for it.

It's not over yet....

I left the window down to air the stink out of the car, because the last thing I need is for Hunter to get in the car, get a good whiff and have a repeat performance.

It rained.

I forgot about the driver side window being down.

Being a trooper, the next time I had to go out I got a towel and a puddle pad and dealt with it. I couldn't really blame the children for this one. Not directly anyway.

I know now why mothers are nuts.