Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Open for business

I am on a rheumatology elective in which I have learned: moving parts, they cause problems. Every single patient in the hospital that I have seen on this rotation has been some crazy complicated thing that I will never see again. I got to practice allergy skin testing on some of the new fellows, so anyone who is looking to be poked with allergens, I'm your girl. Except that I don't have the right equipment at home, so we'll have to improvise. Looking around, we can currently provide testing for large hairy dog, dust, grass, incredibly itchy weeds, large hairy guy, eggs, potatoes, duplos, magnetic letters, antibiotics effective against lyme disease in dogs, almost-three-year-old, and several tree pollens. Mold is luckily out of stock.


Apparently admiring orthopedic shoes online is just the gateway to a larger world of frumpy, slightly medical items, because the next day I found myself in a medical supply store purchasing the strongest kind of compression socks possible without a prescription, and wondering if I should get someone to write me a prescription to take things up a notch. I have been wearing them for two days and I'm afraid there's no going back. Next up: matching tracksuits and a fanny pack.


Dylan has never been so irritating in all her life. And let me tell you, I have been reviewing her life in some detail via the never-ending pile of clothes in the attic worn at various phases. Her new status as a functioning, talking person allows her to express her grumpiness in a stunning variety of never-before-possible forms, from a baseline of Reflexively Contrary, escalating to Moderate Displeasure at My Continued Presence to her peak of All Out Tantrum, While Hurling Insults. Tantrums seem like sort of a reasonable response before you can say why you are frustrated and what it is exactly that you want, but I don't really see the point once you can TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT. Actually, now that I think about it, the problem is of course NOT getting what she wants. What can I say, most days I insist that she wear pants, and most days I don't feel like that's a good starting point for negotiations.

This morning I told her that we didn't have time to play around on the computer because she had spent so much time whining and crying so then she looked up at me and asked "Mommy, I not a nice girl anymore?" I always thought the differentiation between acting annoying and being annoying was too subtle for little kids to get, but I guess we better work on that. Although actually maybe it's a little too subtle for me also. Because: irritating.

1 comment:

Gillianboudreau@hotmail.com said...

The difference between acting inappropriately and being bad seems to be a big deal at Dylan's age. I find I have done more puppet shows than one might expect on this topic, as the preschoolers tend to worry about this a lot.