This week I took Summer for her 18 month-old check-up. I still dread those vaccination visits. I don’t mind the crying. Although the first time Rick and I took Dylan as a baby, all three of us were pathetically sobbing. Note to new parents out there: Hysterical moms and dads don’t really calm newborns.
No, I don’t cry anymore. I just worry. And frankly, I’m far more talented and experienced at worrying than crying anyway.
It’s the whole could-there-possibly-be-a-connection-to-autism-thing that just makes me queesy. But on the flip side, I’d sort of definitely prefer my kids not get polio or the mumps or the measles. Because that sounds like a major bummer. So I buried my angst and headed to the doctor’s office.
At which point I learned that I never brought Summer in for her 15 month check-up.
Or her 12 month check-up.
In fact, Summer hadn’t had any of her shots for 9 months. I know my friend Adam (the pediatric ER doc – aka the red headed George Clooney) is just shaking his head right now in disapproval. Oh, Adam. I’m not perfect.
Summer has been to the pediatrician 12 zillion times for chest congestion, coughs and colds. But apparently, I had forgotten all about those nifty “wellness” visits.
It’s kind of out character for me because I’m pretty insanely organized. So maybe the fears in my subconscious took over my appointment calendar. Anyway, we’ll will be catching up on her shots over the next month which is good old fashion summer in the city fun.
Meanwhile, 38 is roaring towards me like an Amtrak Acela train (without all the delays). I don’t even know why I give a crap about 38. It’s really her step sister 40 that I am truly afraid of.
I know, all of you out there who are already 40 are thinking, “Com’on Kelcey, don’t be such a friggin’ wimp. 40 is nothing.” And I’m sure I’ll feel that way on the day after my 40th birthday. Or at least, I will absolutely feel that way about 40 on my 60th birthday.
It just all goes so darn fast.
I still keep thinking that I’m going to wake up and be 24, sitting in a cafe with some friends, listening to Blues Traveler and not stressing about child immunizations or 40th birthdays.
Totally hasn’t happened yet. Strange, right?
Instead I will celebrate what 38 years has brought me. Things I dreamed of but could not have ever imagined at 24…
Oh wait. Scratch that. I mean, he was fun. But not that guy. I meant this guy and his girlie sidekicks.
mama bird notes
I really am ashamed of myself. WEEKS ago, the very funny site GoodMom/BadMom featured one of my stories on their Sunday Blog wrap up. You know that story I wrote about my atheist dad. Anyway, I never properly thanked them for the awesome honor. It’s embarrassing really. So please head on over and check out their site and I will rest easier tonight. Thanks to Jennifer H. for unintentionally setting me straight.
And check out our new mama bird poll. How would you feel about your husband going to a strip club?