Go to Walmart to have it filled. They only have one child's done (???), the other will take more 20 minutes (??!!!?), but she marks it that we are in the store. Fine. We go trolling about Walmart, me carrying a shopping basket instead of a cart because Miss Q started throwing a fit about us having a cart. Whatever. I don't have much to buy...until I'm done 30 minutes later. "Heavy heavy basket" are the words that come to mind.
Go to pick up 'scripts. The clerk literally cringes and says, "$131.00". Um. No. No to the nth degree. I call my peds office, and of course get the nurses' answering machine, so who KNOWS when I'll hear back from them. I love my girls but really???? And that's supposed to be for the generic of this fine antibiotic? Let's go back to the cheap stuff and see where that takes us, I think to myself. Because we pay for this out of pocket since, while we have insurance, it is junk when it comes to prescriptions.
Leave prescription area. Take heavy heavy basket to cashier. Miss Q looses her crap in line because, ironically, I won't let her go use the restroom. This is definitely a sad moment for her because Miss O and E need to go hit the loo (they both drank lots at lunch). They are old enough to go together as the bathroom is pretty much across the aisle from me, but Miss Q, who is still wearing a pullup and can pee or do whatever business she needs to right there? No. She's with me. So, naturally, she will scream and throw herself on the floor (the filthy dusty Walmart floor, btw. In her black pants, so I know of what I speak). Oh. Also, it's way past her naptime. I want to join her in this temper tantrum because I have great empathy, but I'm starting to get ticked that I let my 2 year old boss me around about not getting a stupid shopping cart, because guess what. After you pay for your stuff out of your heavy heavy basket, you have to carry the heavy heavy bags. And your purse that you packed with doctors office waiting room distractions, thus also heavy. Gosh darnit.
And then, while she is shrieking at my feet, I pay for my stuff (and exceed my budget by $14.00...oh well. On to the card you go...because I had been doing cash, up to that very moment). Where are my other girls??? They are not yet out of the bathroom, so I have to convince Miss Q to go into the bathroom, get the other girls to abandon their
Out we go to the car with screams and wails. Load up the heavy heavy bags. Get the girls buckled. Try to call Super J, which goes directly to his voice mail. Call sweet friend Kristan. Start venting to her and...the call gets dropped. OHMYHECK! Really???? Call her back. Finish venting. Feel better. Go home and put Miss Q down for her nap. But she doesn't want to take a nap, because, why should she? She only does it every day, but wants today to be an exception. She yells at me and continues to cry when not yelling. Carry her bodily to her room. Try to offer pacifiers. NO to the Nth, she tells me...well, actually she just keeps yelling and carrying on.
And I lose it at this point. I'm not sure what note I hit, but I let out a roar to the ceiling that is both therapeutic (for me) and very startling (for Miss Q). I pick up Q, hug her and apologize for this primal screech, but it was that or things were going to get physical with her.
Yeah, so anyway. She's napping (or at least in her bed), and I'm now making phone calls of shame to let exposed friends know about this, but I had to take a mental break and get this written down.
Moral of the story: If your husband complains of sore throat while you have strep, and is still complaining about it after you and the kids get off the antibiotics and then a week later goes to the doctor where they tell him that, while he does not have many outward symptoms, he definitely has strep and may even be a carrier, just know that if you want to project your anger towards him for a few minutes, I will understand. Realize it's probably not his fault, but still...I'll understand.