I don’t even know where to start….
They say bad things come in threes, right? Friday night, Me Too’s filling fell out. The Friday night before Golden Week vacation starts. Amazing timing. Luckily, she wasn’t in pain. Unluckily, there was a gaping hole in her molar.
Turns out our dentist was open on Saturday.
Can I get a witness?
But not until 10. So we spent several hours on Saturday waiting for the clock to turn to ten. We got an okay to come at 2. Not an appointment, mind you, but he would fit her in sometime in the afternoon.
Me Too had a make-up swimming class that day at 11. We needed to leave around 1 to get to the dentist. The pool is fifteen minutes away by bike. Now I’m not great at math, but I’m thinking that we won’t have time to come home for lunch, mostly because nobody else will make lunch. And then something about Train A leaving Chicago and Train B leaving New York, meeting in the middle and a tree falling in a forest.
I suggest we eat at the restaurant there, but that suggestion was met with such violent eye-rolling that I changed it to “Okay, fine, I’ll go to the grocery store and pick something up.”
On the way to the store, I happen to come upon one of Me Too’s classmates from last year. She is crying and running, total panic mode. I stop her and talk to her for a minute, and it turns out she is lost. She was walking to the store with her dad and little sister. There are two ways to go from her house, and even though her daddy told her to stay with him, she ran off through the park. Then she couldn’t find him and just started running around.
I don’t know her phone number, but I knew her mom’s e-mail. I sent her a message and told her what had happened, and where we were. Then I called HRH, explained the situation, and asked him to call the grocery store.
And he was like, “What for?”
Dude, it’s simple. They were on the way to the store. Her dad hasn’t come back to look for her, so obviously he has gone there to look for her. And then HRH starts arguing with me about it. If he doesn’t want to call the grocery store, then fine. Fuck him. I start to e-mail her mom again to tell her we’re going to the store to look for her dad, when finally Dad shows up. It has been seven minutes by now. I would have been in a state of terror, but this dad was like, “Ah, there you are. What? You say you’ve been lost?”
Glad to know I’m not the only one married to a useless mo fo.
By this time, I have no more time to go to the store. So I rush home and pull together whatever I can find for lunch, get Me Too together, and head for the door when I notice that HRH is still in his pajamas.
He promised Me Too he would go watch her swimming lesson. He’ll go later, he says.
And ten minutes later, he calls me
from the grocery store.
And yet, my phone did not explode and we are still married. It’s because I am a saint. Beatify me at your leisure.
Eventually the swimming lesson and the lunch brouhaha are completed. We get on the train. He wants to do some shopping while I take Littley to the dentist. Wonderful! Then he tries to get out of taking Me First with him. “Wouldn’t you rather go with mommy? Don’t they have nice books there?” etc etc ad effing nauseum. Not. Going. To. Happen. This dentist office is small. The waiting area is cramped. We are going without an appointment and have been warned it will be a long wait. And what am I supposed to do with him while she is being treated? Urgh.
But I take it in stride. Maybe it’s the one week of the month when I can do that.
The day ends up nicely, having tofu donuts at a kind of hip shop in Motomachi. They have one of one Dyson bladeless fans, so the kids are in ecstasy.
Later that evening, HRH yells at me to come to the bathroom. He shows me Me First’s back. “I tried to scrub it off,” he says. The boy is covered in a red rash from neck to toe. We’ve just seen a segment on the news about how German measles is going around. And he tried to scrub it off?
Yes, he’s been vaccinated. Yes, both times, on time. But it doesn’t do much good when so many other children don’t get their shots, too. There’s no high-thinking semi-scientific reasoning to it either here. Parents of boys think German measles isn’t a concern for them, not worth paying 80 poppers for to get a shot, anyway. So it continues to go around year after year after year. Maybe next year will be better. They finally made the shot free six years ago, so those in the grade below Me First may have higher vaccination levels.
Once again, fantastic timing. How do they DO this? It’s amazing, actually. I’m pretty sure I can schedule in our next sickness for the weekend before Marine Day, and then add another one to Obon in August.
Me First has a slight fever and is a little itchy, but other than that he is okay.
Happy Golden Week, everyone!