Friday, July 29, 2011

Got Milk?

Me: "Hello, my son is a patient. He's 16 months old and has been on Soy Formula since he was a baby due to his lactose intolerance."
Nurse: "Okay. How do you spell his last name?"
Me: "S. H. I. V. E. L."
Nurse: "S. (pause, pause, pause). H. (pause)...
Me: "I. V. E. L. Yes."
Nurse: "Okay. So what's wrong?"
Me: "I need to know what to try instead of whole milk. Harry can't drink Vitamin D milk due to his lactose issues... It makes his diapers --- beige colored. The output? It's beige and he's really cranky."
Nurse: "Okay. Hold on..."

Nurse: "Ma'am? You need to give him whole milk. But you can do it gradually-"
Me: "No, I can't. Remember? His POOP TURNS BEIGE AND IT MAKES HIM CRANKY! AND GASSY! What are the alternatives? Soy? Lactose-free? WHAT?!"

(In my defense I had been having a few rotten days so the fact that yet another person was refusing to listen to me before "helping" and offering their "advice" was enough to throw me into a barely-controlled-Julia-Sugarbaker-style-rage.)

Nurse: "Okay. Hold on... Ma'am? You can try Lactaid."
Me: "Thank you."

I hung up the phone and collapsed into a crying fit that let my kid giggling hysterically while he clutched my knees with two slimy baby hands (he laughs when I cry - evil, huh?).

You know that point? The point where you've been stretched and stretched and have feigned uncaring and politeness while others talk over you, or at you, or ignore you all together? I was at that point. Or rather, I was past it. So I had a pity party of one right there on my beige, apparently poop-colored couch, while my baby tried to cheer me up by showing me all 12 of his teeth at once.

Hmm. Maybe it's not others who are inconsiderate but maybe it's me. Maybe I've grown uber-sensitive in my little hermit shell here with my untalking companion and have relied too much on PBS to guide me in life. Because, unlike the world of kid's shows, people are not yielding to others, they do not give a crap about your issues, dreams, hopes and aspirations because they're too busy with their own.

After my sob-fest I picked up my darling jackal and gave him a big, sloppy kiss.

"Don't be mean when you get older, okay? Don't forget to listen when others are talking, and don't forget that mommy is a pretty, pretty princess - even if she will eventually be a big 'ol blind, blob of blubber someday..."

"Shit," he said.

Oh well - I still have a few years to mold him...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

See...he does talk!
(((hugs for you)))