Back to work

Well, back to the salt mine I went today....I got my regular iced coffee & muffin for breakfast, plugged into my electronic medical record to plow through a bazillion documents and flags, not to mention my emails...No major catastrophes seem to have occured while I was out.

Tomorrow, Sam has a playdate with a kid from his new preschool class. We have never met the parents, though I did talk to the child briefly at the playground meet-up the Parents' Association had last week. (Hubby is truly delighted to be going to the home of people he's never even met...but this is what happens, my dear. when you don't plan anything and your wife happens to have a career COORDINATING PEOPLE'S LIVES. And if I can case manage 60 adults with multiple chronic diseases and many psychosocial ills, I sure can set up a lively schedule for my men at home!!) Anyway...the mom called to set up something, which was very proactive of her. When her son got wind of the impending playdate, he, in 4 year old fashion, wanted it to occur IMMEDIATELY. Being a good Mommy, she called me back to see if we wanted to come over same day. I explained that we could not due to a number of errands we had scheduled, and she suggested that.....I drop him off.

Anyone knowing me and Hubby well can stop yer laughing now.

When I laughingly told this to Sam, he said "But I want my Mommy to come!" Oh Sam, you will probably be 16 before we "drop you off" somewhere.

A formula:
take 1 former middle child, sometimes neglected and left to his own devices frequently, leading to many dangerous and chancy encounters and adventures....
add 1 former mostly-only child, sometimes neglected and almost always given extraordinarily inappropriate amounts of freedom, leading to many dangerous and chancy encounters and adventures...
combine to make an only child with a stay at home dad and a social worker (!) mom
to get:
one wickedly overprotected child.

Sam is still going to sleep in his own bed! Amazing. He actually has ramped up his bedtime and morning nursing, I suppose to compensate. Speaking of nursing, my friend Cole has suggested I give Ike, the Cat with Cancer, some breast milk. (Expressed breast milk, people.) While that may seem wacky, it's actually a great idea that I'm bummed never previously occured to me. And Iky will really love it, being the Dairy King (in his quest for creamy deliciousities, he once carried a spatula with pancake batter around in his mouth).

Oh, my prizesfor going back to work?
a cold which hit me in the afternoon with a KILLER back ache